


Lonely American Holiday

by youngthug (skepticalArsonist)



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alcohol and regret, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background The Boss/Strangelove, Holidays, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, just some weed y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:36:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8598247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skepticalArsonist/pseuds/youngthug
Summary: Naked Snake the volunteer firefighter saves Ocelot's kitchen from fiery doom. Damn. Just before the holidays, too. Shit. Well fuck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so... it's been a while since i've gone through with a fic idea, and putting this up feels really good! tf!!!  
> anyway, i really hope you enjoy this!  
> & fuck no-bake desserts

Ocelot stood frozen at first, too shocked, too baffled to take action. The conflagration flickered before his eyes, flames consuming his oven from the inside out, the roar and heat stifled by the sealed door. He had no idea how long it had been burning, or how he hadn’t heard the whining of the smoke detectors from the shower.

He suppressed his anger, cooled his frustration, picked up the phone.

-

The fire had been minor - destroyed his oven and his dinner but nothing else was harmed, leaving the man to stand, embarrassed, surrounded by volunteer firefighters who appeared too amused to be frustrated yet too unimpressed to seem fully interested in the occurrence. One female volunteer, a high schooler, most likely, finished checking for damage while another shook the charred remains of food on Ocelot’s ruined tray.

“The hell were you making?” The man was grinning, sweat running down the smooth skin of his bald head. Ocelot could not help but feel defensive - cooking was just a cry for blunder, after all. Who didn’t fuck up at least once a week in the kitchen? Fuck this guy.

“Ribs. Barbeque.” Ocelot spoke through his teeth, a terse response, indicating that he was more than ready for these people to get their dirty boots from his floor and out the door. He was weary from a long day at work, and hungry. He had been looking forward to those ribs for about a week. He had no idea what else was edible in the apartment besides cereal. There was always cereal.

“Damn shame,” a third firefighter regarded, built, one-eyed and also grossly sweaty. He looked to be much older than the teenage volunteer but younger than the bald one. “How long did you marinate these?” Ocelot’s teeth clenched and he stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Did these people not understand the concept of overstaying one’s welcome?

“A few hours. It’s not a big deal, really.” He answered smoothly. “It’s unfortunate that I’ll have to eat breakfast for dinner again, seeing as-”

“You need to be a little more observant when it comes to these things. At least from now on,” the firefighter with the eyepatch looked at him with mixed expressions of sternness and sympathy. “Do you know how this happened?”

Ocelot shook his head. The man gestured for the other two to leave, and so they nodded, heading for the front door. Finally. He continued:

“There was oil pooled at the bottom of the oven. Probably dripped from whatever you cooked last. Anyway, that little puddle was the culprit.” He paused. “You’re going to need a new damn oven, that's for sure. We can take this one out for you if you’d like.” The man looked upon him anticipating his response. It was a kind offer. Ocelot grinned, agitated but grateful nonetheless.

“It’s fine, I can handle it. Another day, when I feel like it.”

“But we can do for you now...”

“Listen… Uh-” He looked at the other man’s torso, searching to some sort of nametag, but to no avail.

“John.”

“John, alright. I’m hungry. And I’m sure you’re tired.” John nodded in either understanding or affirmation. Ocelot didn’t care - he needed this man out of his home. “Please, I can handle this. I can live without a stove for a few days. I'll be fine… Does insurance cover this kind of thing?”

John shrugged. “Fuck if I know. I barely know a thing about my own insurance company. Good luck.” John paused another moment before giving what Ocelot would consider a smirk and shuffling out the door. Ocelot locked the door behind him, sinking to the floor, eyes fixed on his ruined oven. It was much getting too cold to leave the windows open, but the lingering smell of smoke still filled the air with a putrid stench - like failure, but sweeter. Disappointment with a hint of barbecue sauce. And God knew he wouldn’t be able to pay for a new stovetop oven anytime soon. Perhaps he should have let John the Fireman and his motley crew take the oven out.  He had been much too hasty. Stubborn. Hungry. His stomach made a flapping, mid-pitched rumble.

So he went to his strange-smelling kitchen, throwing open the windows and then the barren pantry door to reveal a bag of rice, some boxes of pasta, and four boxes of cereal. He chose the one with marshmallows. It was a special night - and by the end of it, Ocelot had eaten six bowls of cereal and dozed off for a few hours. When he woke up, a program depicting the process of making saltwater taffy was playing softly from his flat little television.

Thanksgiving was coming. He had no stove. He had no family, no friends. Another lonely American holiday he would spend dwelling on work, or watching reruns, overstuffing himself with proteins and carbs.

It was Friday- or Saturday, 1:15AM. Ocelot was eager to slip out of his business casual attire (they could wear jeans on Fridays) and into the t-shirt that served as his pajamas. His boxer-briefs felt a little looser on him than usual; he had lost a bit of weight in the past few months. His face was developing a tired look - _God_ he was getting old. His thirty-first birthday was approaching fast, and the thought terrified him more than anything. Thirty-one years of wisdom, and many more of solitude and scoliosis. More than half of his life he had dedicated to hunching over a desk, absorbing the information that got him where he was today - working for a company where he had to absorb even more information and put it to “good use”.

He settled back on the couch, covering himself in a red blanket and scrolling through news articles while the hushed intensity of a low-volume competitive cooking show played from the television. He scrolled down the contact list, stopping on the one that read “мать”. Mother. He hesitated before tapping the call icon, not taking in a single breath. The phone rang… And rang, and rang, and _rang._ He got voicemail. He did not have the energy to leave a message this time. He stared up at the popcorn ceiling, his mind drifting to the corner containing thoughts leading to self-pity. _Your dull job. Your student loans. Your youth, fleeting. You used to be so carefree, so daring. Now look at you. Apathetic. Clawing your way to the top of this company using deceit, dishonesty. Selfish._ Ocelot clenched his fist in his rage.

He had one more bowl of cereal before carrying himself to bed.

\--

Ocelot wrenched himself into consciousness, heart beating, his mind trying to remember what in that nightmare had terrified him so much. Everything felt surreal for a moment, but his mind quickly rested once again, concluding that _this_ was reality, and he was safe. It was just past nine. After brushing his teeth, showering, shaving, and dressing himself in another t-shirt and a clean pair of jeans, he made his way to the kitchen, only to remember that his stove was unusable. He massaged his temple, letting out an agitated sigh. A dirty spoon and bowl sat soaking in his sink from last night. 

“Goddamned cereal…” He muttered, scratching at his mustache. He rummaged through the fridge, looking for _some_ sort of leftovers. Who was he kidding, he never had leftovers. He had grown up learning that leaving food was wasteful, so he almost always ate it all. The freezer was devoid of everything but a half-empty ice tray and a box of Firecrackers left over from the summer. He supposed he could get coffee and a bagel before he set out to run his errands. As he was in a rather foul mood, he put on his favorite black leather jacket and black embroidered cowboy boots. Looking good always did a bit to counter negative emotions.

Ocelot’s car was small, a little old but still shiny. He listened to a radio talk show while he drove, his mind primarily focused on his mental grocery list. What was microwavable, what was not? Did people really only bake their Thanksgiving meals? There had to be _something-_   

He snapped his thoughts back to the present - he was _dangerously_ close to the car in front of him. Ocelot pressed the brake pedal, widening the gap between the two vehicles. He turned up the radio’s volume. Two men spoke about the history of GPS technology. He turned the volume back down.

The drive-thru line at the coffee shop was horrendously long, and his patience was being stretched thinner with every passing second. It was like a menagerie of metal animals, waiting for their share of the slop bucket.  He just wanted a bagel. A bit of coffee. Did any of the lazy fucking idiots in front of them have a busted stove? Why didn’t they understand his dilemma? He was tempted to get out of his car and march to the front of the line, and as stunning a display that would have been, the man instead resorted to rolling his eyes and drumming his red gloved fingers along the top of the steering wheel. He hadn’t even ordered yet.

“Don’t you guys have jobs to get to?” He murmured, putting the vehicle into park and moving his foot from the brake pedal. He thought about the firefighter with the eyepatch, wondered what the fuck had happened to _that_ guy. Life must be strange with only one eye. How did he even become a firefighter with one eye? Or perhaps it had happened on the job. The line began to move. Ocelot put his car back into drive and moved forward, ghosting his foot over the gas pedal. He ordered an onion bagel with cream cheese and a large coffee with cream and sugar. Although testing and drinking while driving was dangerous and admittedly difficult, it was not illegal, so the man drove to the store bagel-in-hand and glove-off.

The grocery store was packed with early shoppers loading their carts with piles of stuffing mix and frozen turkeys, deep fryers and vegetables. Ocelot scanned the carts as they rushed by, wondering what he could make despite his plight. He could microwave corn. Good. He could make a no-bake dessert. Gross, but not horrific. He could fry the turkey. Probably not worth the money but definitely a possibility. That would be enough food for more than two weeks, no doubt. By then he could have a new stove.

Ocelot moved down the baking aisle, scanning the no-bake treats. Pumpkin pie was classic, but they also had-

“Hey!” Ocelot looked around him, making sure that hadn't been directed towards him. To his left, someone was making his way towards him.

“John the Firefighter?” Ocelot stood stunned for a moment, gathering himself. John the Firefighter was smiling, rushing towards him like an old friend.

“Did you just call me John the Firefighter?” He chuckled, reaching his hand out. Ocelot shook it with his ungloved bagel hand. He was momentarily embarrassed, remembering that he hadn't put his glove back on after finishing his breakfast.

“Yeah, that’s what you are, right?” Ocelot smirked, donning one of his more charming expressions. “A firefighter named John?”

“Well, I'm a firefighter a few days of the week…. but no one really calls me John. My friends call me Snake.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Why would I be kidding?” John looked a bit perplexed.

“I dunno. My, uh, _acquaintances_ call me Ocelot. You can call me Adam, though.”

“I think I'll call you Ocelot. It suits you better.” There’s a pause. John-Snake the Fireman continued to stare at him as if waiting for him to make the next move. And he did. He turned, once again scanning the no-bake desserts, his mind completely focused on the man that remained to his left. Finally, Snake spoke.

“Thanksgiving shopping? Me too.” Snake rummaged through his full cart, showing off the spoils of his capitalistic plunder.

“Damn.” Ocelot scanned the huge pile of holiday foods. Clearly this man was not thrifty. Buying everything from one store was never a good idea, especially when preparing such a grandiose feast.  “You gonna eat all that or do you have a big family back home?”

“I have two roommates. Sorta. I eat the most though. They gave me more money than I needed, so I’m splurging.” 

“I can tell. Damn.” Ocelot repeated. The man had a turkey _and_ a chicken. Three boxes of macaroni. 3 blocks of cheese. “God damn.”

Snake seemed to be observing him closely, so Ocelot did the same to the other. Snake was very muscular. He had a rectangular and very American face, beard and all. He wore a bandanna or sweatband around his forehead. His eyes were a vibrant blue among the earthy tones of his skin and hair. He wore a grey long-sleeved t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black jeans with a belt. His sneakers were beaten up, they he’d worn them for every season during the past few years. His hair was moderately neat. Once again Snake broke the silence.

“You’re not from around here, are you? You’ve got a bit of a drawl.” Ocelot tensed up, his lips peeling into a false grin. “And not much people around here wear cowboy boots. You from Tennessee? Oklahoma? Texas?” He wasn’t quite surprised at the assumption - he got that a lot, and frankly he found it a bit embarrassing. No way he’d change his ways, though.   

“Actually, I’ve lived the majority of my life in Russia. I’ve been here quite a few years, though.” Snake looked shocked. Ocelot could understand why. “I know, the accent and the getup are off-putting, but I swear I’m telling the truth.”  
  
“You’re Russian?” Snake asked in Ocelot’s mother tongue. The other man’s expression shifted into surprise.  
  
“Shit, how much do you know?” The man replied. It had been a while since he’d had speak Russian. As therapeutic as it was to curse in the language, being able to finally _speak_ Russian with another person felt so damn good.  
  
“A lot. I think. I’ve been speaking it for a really long time.”

“Impressive. You speak extremely well.” Snake meekly thanked him for the compliment. Ocelot turned to grab the no-bake pumpkin pie from the shelf, having made his decision moments prior, only to have Snake grab his wrist. It was clearly not meant to be aggressive, but the man had an iron grip.

“Hey, don’t eat those. Taste like shit. What else do you need? I’ll walk with you.” Ocelot shook the man’s hand from his wrist, nodding his agreement. And so they made their way down the aisle, making small talk as they scanned the shelves for the perfect meal. Snake seemed to notice the look of desperation in the other’s eyes, and suddenly remembered last night’s dilemma - the sole reason they were conversing here in the first place.

“You’re going to cook for Thanksgiving without an oven?” Snake asked in English, his eyes fixed on Ocelot’s empty cart.

“It won’t be hard. It’s just me at home.” Snake contemplated for a moment, then remained silent. Ocelot regarded him with a brief look of confusion before making his way towards the back of the store, where the dairy products were kept. Snake followed him, brow still furrowed in deep thought. Did Ocelot shock him in any way? It was difficult to tell. Ocelot stopped in front of the dairy cooler, looking for the cheapest can of whipped cream the store had to offer. It was not on sale. Unfortunate. He dropped one into his cart nonetheless. Snake’s expression was blank until he noticed the other making eye contact with him. He smiled quickly and pulled out his phone as an aversion tactic. Strange.

“Snake.” Ocelot spoke Russian once again. “I have everything I need. I have to go now… And thank you for last night.” Snake grunted his response, giving Ocelot a tight smile. Even stranger. He left the man texting next to the dairy section.

The sun was still high in the sky, bearing down from clear blue skies as he drove back to his home. The trees blazed warm colors, making up for the heat that the sun lacked so far into the autumn, and his mind raced with a foreign ferocity. The world around him was blue, yellow, orange, but he could only see the red.

\--

Ocelot was immensely frustrated after discovering that he had forgotten to pick up nearly every item on his shopping list. He desperately needed milk, as he had consumed a majority of it the previous night. He needed oatmeal, butter - and why the _fuck_ had Snake just told him not to buy the no-bake pie? Why had he _listened?_

“Jesus Christ…” Ocelot sank further into the couch feeling like he had wasted an entire day. It wasn’t quite 7 yet - the man hadn’t had it in him to leave the house again. So he’d stayed home.  He changed the channel to the news, taking gulps from his water bottle and watched the world crumble before his very eyes. Politics were always hell, hence why he found it riveting. Well, he _had_ studied politics for his bachelor’s. One thing the man loved was government secrets. He knew loads of them from his past; the brief period of bliss when he woke up every morning in search of mystery and found it waiting for him at work. Now he was just a professional capitalist, and as much as he hated it he loved it too.

And he was hungry. He could order pizza, but he didn't like how pizza made him feel afterwards. He wasn't in the mood for Chinese food. And any other place that delivered only accommodated customers that lived downtown, not the far corners of the small city. Ocelot had been defeated; so with a sigh, he decided to drown his hunger with mindless and self-indulgent activities. He put on a Western. It was fake - one of those confusing Tarantino Westerns, but Ocelot loved the updated look of the films. It wasn't long before he had dozed off on the couch once again.

The buzz of the doorbell shocked him back into consciousness. It hadn't quite registered to him that someone was at his door until the third buzz. He gathered himself, fixing his neck length hair and trying to look like he hadn't just been drooling all over his face a moment ago. He didn't even think to ask himself why _anyone_ was at his door in the first place. He just went and answered it.

Ocelot was surprised - no, _shocked_ to find Snake standing before him, holding up a wonderful-smelling yellow plastic bag.

“Hey, Snake. Uh...”

“Hi,” the man grunted, clearing his throat. “I'm glad you're home. I came to bring you this. Dinner for tonight.” Ocelot’s eyes narrowed.

“You didn't have to go out of your way and do all this. Unless this is what firefighters have to do, of course.” Ocelot took the bag from Snake. It really smelled delicious. “In that case I'll have to burn my place down more often. How'd you find my house again?”

“I drove yesterday. I remembered the route. Plus you live near the big synagogue. It's pretty hard to miss.” Ocelot nodded, then gestured for Snake to enter his home. He did, albeit reluctantly.

“So what's in here?” Ocelot removed the plastic container from the bag, observing the contents from the outside. Mixed vegetables, pasta, meat.

“It’s venison.” Snake then added in Russian: “I killed it myself.”

“You hunt?” Ocelot opened the container; the meat had a gamy, unusual scent, but smelled delicious nonetheless. It had been a full three days since he'd had a hot meal, mostly due to fatigue.

“Yeah. Once a month.”

“Impressive. I really appreciate it.” Ocelot gestured for Snake to enter his home, and went to get a fork. He sat at his small table, one leg crossed over the other, staring Snake right in the face. The other man was a bit taken aback.

“...What?”

“Snake you… do know that I have a microwave. And money to order food. I won't starve to death here.” Snake seemed to actually think about this for a while, as if the possibilities had never crossed his mind.

“Oh. Well I thought you'd like to enjoy some real food. You seemed really disappointed about the ribs.” Snake sat in the adjacent chair, arms crossed, focused on looking everywhere but at Ocelot. He'd really embarrassed him, huh? Ocelot couldn't help but feel a little bad. He held the fork out to him.

“Here, have some.”

“No, its for you. I ate at home, trust me.” Ocelot shrugged.

“Well, feel free to have anything I have lying around - if you can find anything. I do a fair amount of hunting for food here, too.” He grinned, digging his fork into the steaming food. It was pretty good, not amazing, but good. “You made this?”

“Uh, no. My roommate did. Kinda used a recipe.”  Snake sounded a bit embarrassed, as if the legitimacy of his gesture had somehow declined in value. Ocelot smirked, staring him down from across the table.

“And you couldn’t’ve read the recipe yourself?” He taunted, waggling the fork in the other man’s direction. Snake actually flushed and simply responded with an unintelligible grunt. Ocelot raised his hands in defense. “Ease up, I was only kidding. This was real nice of you - you really didn’t have to come all this way for me.” He paused, eating a bit of pasta and meat from the container. “You usually do this?”

“Uhh, no.” Although Ocelot wasn’t quite surprised, his eyebrows still shot up.

“Well thank you.” Ocelot didn’t have much to repay him with - he felt that nothing could make up for the thought behind this gesture, and giving him something like an eighth-gallon of milk would be insufficient. So he chose not to mention returning the favor. He looked at Snake again - the man was texting. Very slowly. Dear God. He put his phone down after a moment, looking up once again.

“Again, it’s no problem.” So the man couldn’t text and talk at the same time. Ocelot fought to suppress the grin that teased the edges of his lips. “Anyways, I should probably go. Have to get to the station by 8. I’m working until 4 tomorrow morning.”

“Damn, an eight hour volunteer shift?”

“Yeah. I enjoy it, so why not? Anyway,” he stood. “Thanks for inviting me in. You can keep the container. We kind of collect those back at my place.” He smiled, extending a large hand. Ocelot shook it. A formal gesture.

“No problem. You sure you don’t need anything?” Ocelot gestured towards the kitchen.

“Nah, I’ll be good. I’ll be on my way now.” He crammed his hands into the pockets of his coat and headed towards the door, shoulders hunched as if bracing for a cold wind. He thanked Ocelot one last time before closing the door behind him.

Ocelot sat there for a while, his mind racing through what had just happened. It was strange, but so kind. So unnecessary. Who _was_ this Snake the Buff Firefighter that he had chanced upon in the local grocery store? He shrugged and began finishing his meal off. It wasn’t barbeque ribs, but it was something. Someone rapped at the door. Ocelot paused. Had Snake forgotten his keys? The was nothing but dinner on the table.

He went to the unlocked door, opening it to reveal, well, Snake. The man wore a blank expression.

“Hey, sorry. But, uh…” John trailed off. Ocelot pressed his lips together. “Uh, you want to come spend Thanksgiving with me and my roommates? We could use the extra company. Plus you said you would be spending it alone, so I thought… Yeah.” He smiled. “What do you say?”

“I…” Ocelot pondered this for a moment. “Sure... I’ll be there.” Pushing his hair back from his face and forehead, Ocelot thought about his mother. “Thank you. I’ll bring some stuff.”

There was an awkward pause. Snake kicked at the ground with his boot a couple of times. The warmth was quickly leaving Ocelot’s home. It gave him chills.  

“Oh, hold on.” Ocelot finally said. “I’ll give you my number. Text me or call with all the information. Thank you.” Ocelot gave the man his number, Snake promised to text him as soon as possible.

“Although I prefer calling.” Snake added. Ocelot smiled, nodded.

“I do too,” he agreed. “I’m looking forward to the holiday.”

“Hm. Yeah. Anyway, I’ll be going.” Snake gave an awkward wave and stepped away from the door and off into the premature darkness of late autumn. Ocelot shut the door softly, eyes wide with disbelief.  
  
“What the _fuck_ was that?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading..... you're the best. also feel free to point out any inconsistencies or errors in characterization! it's my first time writing for this fandom and i'm super down for some constructive criticism.  
> also thanks shoujo aka tumblr user ot4 for looking at this for me!! do u regret ur pseudonym


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snake has a lazy Sunday and makes two calls that he thinks he should regret. Kaz gets a blowjob at the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wish i could have gotten this done faster, but finals have been kicking my ass, unfortunately :( i hope you enjoy this chapter and i hope you all had an at least alright thanksgiving! and if you don't celebrate thanksgiving i hope you had a good thursday

Snake returned to the apartment to find it nearly silent. He could hear the distant _whirr_ of Kazuhira’s fan from the entrance. They guy usually kept the fan on for white noise until it got _really_ cold out. Snake suspected that he’d keep it on year-round if they didn’t harass him so much about it.

The air smelled like microwaved leftovers and incense. Looking towards the inviting couch, the man debated whether he should simply sleep off his hunger or go through the tedious process of finding something in the fridge to eat. He’d eaten so much at dinner that he thought it would have lasted him his entire shift; but around 2 in the morning he had realized his mistake. The night had been a quiet one, so the suspense of a call failed to temporarily stave off his hunger. He had considered sneaking out and searching for a place that sold food that late, but knew that he wouldn’t die waiting a few more hours for his next meal. People _could_ die if he neglected his job to tend to his rumbling stomach. So he’d sat there, half-heartedly listening to the other volunteers talk about their various things, reminding himself that he need not be irritated just because he’d been too lazy to pack himself a midnight dinner.

Although laziness was not it; he _had_ in fact packed up a second dinner - but at the last minute, he’d decided to go to Ocelot’s place and give the food to him. In his haste, he’d decided that he didn’t need to eat anything until he returned. Ocelot. He didn’t quite know what had prompted him to do all that for the guy. He’d most likely felt obligated since he ran into him at the store. That was probably it. He’d felt bad at how empty the man’s shopping cart was.

“Jesus Christ…” Snake muttered, dragging his fatigued body over to the couch and remembering how strange he’d acted before Ocelot had left the store. He wished that he could explain what had been going through his mind. He didn’t expect to grab the man’s wrist when he’d reached for the dessert mix - it’d just _happened._

 _You won’t be needing that;_ he’d meant to say. _You can spend Thanksgiving at my place. It’d be no problem._ But he had keep it to himself. That was it, the envelope had been sealed and shipped.

Which is why it shocked him that Ocelot had accepted his late invitation. He’d never felt more nervous asking someone such a simple question. He didn’t know Ocelot very well, naturally, but he liked the man’s swagger. He was a little different, and a great deal interesting, and Snake couldn’t exactly figure out _why._

He closed his eyes. His stomach was rumbling. He wondered if Kaz would mind it if he ate his leftovers from Wednesday. Hell, Snake knew it would bother him, but the guy could always order it again when he felt like it. _He_ was the accountant. _He_ made much more than Snake did. In fact, he didn’t really need a roommate, but Snake did, so they decided to room together. Kaz was a strange man, too focused on the past and future. With a sigh, Snake lifted himself from the couch. The light of the open fridge flooded the small kitchen in white. Snake snatched up the lone styrofoam container, lifting the lid and kicking the fridge door shut. There it was. The calzone. 3/4ths of it, at least.

But God did not love Snake. The man heard the creak of a door. He froze, remaining silent and hoping that A) it wasn’t Kaz, and B) if it were Kaz, that the man wouldn’t notice him if he stood completely still. Well, it _was_ Kaz, and as one could not go to the bathroom without passing the kitchen, he noticed Snake almost immediately. The other man yawned, stretched, looked at Snake. It was one of those rare times that Snake could see him without his sunglasses.

“Hey Snake,” he yawned, scratching his crotch. “How was your shift?” Like a child, Snake tried hiding the take-out container behind his back.

“It was good. Not busy at all.”

“Wait, that isn’t my calzone, is it?” Kaz’s squinted. “It’s got to be. Otherwise you wouldn’t’ve hid it behind your back.” Snake remained silent. “ _Snake._ ”

“I’m hungry. Just let me have it. There’s nothing else to eat.” Snake went to a cabinet, pulling out a plate and dropping the bready Italian meal onto it. Kaz strode over, agitated, snatching the loaded plate from the other.

“There _is_ food here, Snake. You just don’t want to cook it. This is my lunch for Monday and you know that.” He slid the calzone back into the styrofoam container and shoved it back into the fridge. “Besides, you packed a dinner. I saw you.”

“I… gave it to a coworker.” Snake mumbled. Kaz sighed.

“Just… Whatever. Go ahead then. God.” Kaz sniffed, swiping the back of his hand across his nose. “My calzone…” He then looked at the time, sighed again, and went off to piss as he’d originally intended. Snake smirked. He’d won.

The calzone was a bit soggy when he took it out of the fridge, but it was too good for it to be a problem. Kaz eyed him on the way back from the bathroom. Snake ate with his fingers, sprawled out on the couch, watching a nature documentary on deep-sea creatures. He was thankful that he didn’t have to go back to work until Monday.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and muted the television. He hated that Huey had talked him into getting a smartphone. He preferred his simple flip phone. This thing had too many features that impeded him more than made his life easier. His thumbs were too big for the keyboard. The screen was always too bright. He scrolled through his contacts. Stopped at one: “Ocelot (Adam) (Oven Fire)”. After hesitating for a minute, he texted him his address and a good time to show up, adding that it would be great if he brought them some liquor. To his surprise Ocelot was still awake. He texted back soon after Snake had hit send.

_alright. & how long did it take you to type that out? Just call me. _

Snake chuckled a bit. He knew he was godawful at texting. He hesitated before hitting the call button. Ocelot picked up after about five seconds.

“Hey Snake,” his voice came easy and smooth. “Aren’t you tired? It’s almost five.”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m watching a TV series. Don’t really feel like sleeping, I guess.” There was a rustle. “I ate half a box of Firecrackers.”

“Firecrackers… What?” Snake was confused. He wondered how that was even possible. And he thought _he’d_ eaten weird shit in the past.

“The ice pops… The red white and blue ones… You’ve never heard of them?” Snake then realized his stupidity, and was momentarily embarrassed.

“Yeah, I have. But I thought you meant, uh...” Ocelot laughed from the other line.

“You thought I was eating actual firecrackers. God…” He sniffed. “Anyway, thanks for the text. Thanksgiving is this Thursday, right? Are they letting you out of work?”

“Yeah, I get Thursday off and I don’t think many people are going in on Friday. You?”

“Thursday they’re letting us out early, and we get Friday off, too. Corporate life.” Snake looked up in thought. He didn’t know what Ocelot did for a living. Had he asked?

“Ocelot,” he began, scratching his stubble with a finger. “Where do you work?”

“Oh, just some company downtown. I’m just a secretary, but I think I’m getting a promotion pretty soon. There’s this real asshole at my job that thinks I don’t deserve it, but I think I know a little better than him what I deserve and what I don’t.”

“Congrats. I’m sure you’ve earned it.” A pause. “I’m a contractor. It sounds a lot better than it really is - I don’t really make that much. I usually do more uh, local, suburban projects.”

“That sounds pretty interesting. I’m essentially just a chore boy, but it’s not that bad.” Another rustling followed by a yawn. “Anyway, I think it’s time for me to sleep. I have to sort some things out tomorrow. Thanks for calling.”

“Alright, talk to you soon.” Snake hit the end button faster than he’d ever done so before. He stared at the ceiling a while to ease his anxiety - he was never anxious, and the sensation was strange to him. Maybe because he and Ocelot didn’t know each other very well. Ocelot looked like a man who had secrets. Snake liked that.

He got up with a belch, stretching his limbs and going off to get ready for bed. It was getting lighter outside as morning approached, but even with the covers sealing him in comfortable darkness, the man didn’t find sleep until hours later. He smelled bacon before his tired eyes finally surrendered.

\--

Snake rose from his bed in an exhaustion-fueled stupor. He was relieved to see that it was only 11:38- he rubbed his good eye. The clock said 1:38. Half of his Sunday was already wasted. The smell of bacon drew him to the kitchen. He still wore nothing but his boxers.

Kaz was locked in his room, probably doing unpaid, voluntary overtime.  Eva’s studio door was cracked. Soft music flowed from the room, as if stepping through the door would transport you into a foreign dimension. Whoever had made breakfast had opened the sliding door ever so slightly, so the wide living area swirled with a pleasant coolness. It was a nice afternoon - the sky was speckled with streaked clouds and the heatless sun shone white in the sky. Paying no attention to his half-naked state, Snake stepped out for a smoke.

The sensation of the smooth, woody smoke swirling in his mouth filled him with a familiar tranquility. He was reminded of his current stable state - he had a job, two if he counted volunteering, and strange as it was. He enjoyed living with Kaz and having Eva around the place almost constantly.  He blew smoke from his lips, and the wind whisked it off into the distance. It was cold - he let it invigorate him.

He leaned further onto the rail, taking another puff of his cigar. He thought about Ocelot. The mysterious, silver-tongued Russian. He spat off the balcony, seeing how far he could watch the watch the wad fall. He didn’t see it go very far at all and blamed his single eye. Anxiety crept up on him once again, but his cigar failed to take off the edge. Then melancholy set in then, and he took it as an indicator to go back inside.

\--

 Eva did not leave her room until around 3. He was flexing her hands, most likely weary after hours of practicing. Snake was lying on the couch, listening to music, when she sat on the floor in front of him. She was wearing a black sports bra and grey sweatpants. A repeat of yesterday’s outfit, minus a shirt.

 “Morning, Snake.” She yawned with a smile. Snake waved back lazily.

She took up the remote and Snake removed his headphones, sitting up. She sat on the floor in front of him, flipping through channels and making herself comfortable as she could on the hardwood floor.

“See what’s on the Travel Channel,” Snake said, drumming his fingers on the top of her head. She changed the channel. Whatever was on didn’t seem very interesting to him, but Eva put down the remote. “You, know,” he began, watching a drone sweep over the autumn forests of New England. “How does it feel to pay rent for an apartment you barely live in?”

 Eva grinned, turning her head to look up at him. Despite having spent the entire morning cooped up in the extra room that was now technically hers, her hair was neat.

“You know, I thought I’d feel regretful, but I really don’t.”

“You live across the hall. Your apartment is three, maybe four steps from our door.”

“Yes, but,” Eva turned around completely now, readjusting her posture. “This side of the building gets sun. Mine never does. Plus, your place is bigger, so the acoustics are better. That room is perfect.” She slapped his calf playfully. “You know I just record here. And eat here sometimes.”

“Kaz is still pretty upset about that, actually.” Snake laughed. “He hates having to sleep in his office. He was really excited when we got this place and there was an extra room for an office.”

“Not many people have a separate office. It’s not that huge a deal. And he didn’t want to share, so it’s his loss.” She turned back around. “This show sucks. Get up. I’m almost done recording a new song.” She rose, grabbing his wrist and yanking him up from his seat. “You’re such a couch potato. Let’s go.”

 Eva’s room was small and cramped - instruments and other paraphernalia covered nearly every surface - even the walls. Wires and paper covered the floor, and despite the cold, her window was cracked. Her laptop still trickled music quietly. She was always listening to something new, so her inspiration usually came when she found an interesting new group or genre. She crouched down to close her music streaming tab and open a program. Soon the screen was covered in sound waves and icons Snake could never hope to understand. She sat him down on the floor, slipping her large headphones over his ears. He listened.

This piece was moody - a lot of guitar and a lot of bass. Even the drumming had a sluggish feel to it. The sound came and went often; the volume would drop and rise again slowly. It was catchy in a sad kind of way. Rainy day music of sorts.

“It’s interesting.” Snake concluded after the song stopped suddenly, indicating its incomplete conclusion. “I like how you uh… played a lot of bass.”  Eva laughed, taking the headphones from his ears.

“Sorry, I know you can’t analyze music in-depth like that. It just feels nice to have a second opinion. I’ve been practicing the bass a lot, and I think I’ve finally gotten the hang of it, so I’ve been working on this as a challenge.” She stood again. “It’s still missing though, but I don’t know what to add. I want it to be different. This is grunge. It’s not new or special.”

“I think it sounds good.” Snake shrugged - he hadn’t heard anything wrong with the piece. It wasn’t one the best things he’d heard from her, considering she’d just begun learning the bass just over a month ago, he found it impressive. Eva crouched in front of him, squishing his face between her palms.

“It needs something modern. But what…” Her eyes flicked to the keyboard stood in the corner. “Shit.” She let go of his face, making her way over to the instrument. She removed the keyboard from the stand, kicking her stool out of the way. She placed it in front in Snake, hooking up various wired to her laptop.

Snake picked a piece of paper from the floor and began looking it over. Scrawled all across the page in her messy yet pretty handwriting were various events and reminders: _car dealership commercial - upbeat corny rock_ and _bar gig SOON (12/2) $600 night_ and _christmas party bougie restaurant (downtown, big money) fancy piano music nice clothes, ask snake for santa hat_. He smiled, tossing the paper onto her keyboard.

“You were planning on borrowing my Santa hat?” He asked with a smirk. She was still fussing with some wires. They were very tangled.

“What?” She asked without looking up. “Oh, yeah - just for a couple of nights. And probably Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, too.” She swept the notes sheet from the keyboard, pressing some keys and checking her laptop screen. She finally seemed satisfied and relaxed. “Nice.” She murmured to herself.

“You’re going to add piano to it?” Snake asked, his brow furrowed. He didn’t think it would sound good, but he wasn’t the musician, so he kept his mouth shut.

“No, no. I’m going to add another melody in a different instrument using the keyboard.” She contemplated for a moment. “But piano could be good.” She covered her face with her palm. “No… God, I thought I’d be done soon,” she breathed. “Snake, hit a note. Any note, just not the black keys.” He obeyed the muffled voice, pressing a key situated near the middle of the keyboard. She lifted her face from her hand.

“Okay, press the key three notes down from that one.”

“Uhh, I don’t think I know how to do this.”

“Just hit the key, Snake.” And he did. Eva squinted at the computer screen. Snake had no idea what was going on. She’d never had him help her with a project before. It was strange and different. Not as good as TV, but definitely up there.

 About an hour later, the two went into the kitchen to eat, Eva silently brooding after her unsuccessful recording session. She had decided to add violin, but was still greatly unsatisfied, which placed her in an even worse mood. Kaz was already sitting at the counter dressed in a red robe and eating a grilled cheese sandwich. Eva grabbed the bread from the top of the fridge.

“Hey Eva can you make me a sandwich?” Snake asked. She threw the bread at him - he fumbled a few times before catching it with a single hand. “Alright, then. You want grilled cheese?” She nodded.

“Yeah, thanks.”

 He made his own sandwich with peanut butter and cheese, laid the two sandwiches flat on a plate, and reheated the stove.

“Don’t forget the butter.” Kaz observed, nudging the tub of margarine towards him with his elbow. “I forgot to put it away.”

“Oh.” Snake began to butter the outsides of the bread. Eva sat on the stool next to Kaz’s, watching the stove intently. Kaz scanned her, noticing that she was wearing the same outfit she’d work the previous day.

“Eva, did you sleep here last night?” He wasn’t angry, just surprised and a bit worried.

“Yeah. I was working on a project until late.” She yawned to get her point across.

“Man, there isn’t even a bed in there. Don’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I got a pillow and comforter from my place. I was fine. This apartment is hot as hell, anyway.”

“Hm.” Kaz paused, taking another bite of his sandwich. Snake leaned against the refrigerator, looking at them both.

“Wait, Eva, you were up when I came back? And you didn’t say anything?” He folded his arms across his chest, after rubbing his eyepatch.

“I didn’t notice until you turned the TV on. You were talking to someone on the phone. That was when I fell asleep.” She smirked. “So who was that?”

Snake frowned at her playful expression.  “It just was someone from the station.” He wasn’t quite sure why he was lying. Telling them that he’d befriended some guy whose house had almost burned down just seemed strange. “Geez…”

Eva raised her eyebrows with a “hm”, clearly showing that she barely believed him.

“Anyway, how’s the Thanksgiving shopping going?” Kaz finished off his sandwich, leaning against the back of the stool.

“Fine. But I left the list here, so I don’t know what I forgot. Guess I’ll check in a bit.”

Kaz took a sip of water. “I knew you’d left the list here. You didn’t ask me why I’d written ‘2 cream pies, 1 cake fart’ on it.” Snake went to the stove with the sandwiches, pressing them into the cast iron pan.

“Or maybe I did bring it and I didn’t mention it because it’s not funny.” He licked the margarine from his fingers. “The hell is a cake fart, anyway?”

Kaz just sniggered.

“Whatever. I’m going to the gym after this. Eva, I know you’re coming. How about you, Kaz?”

The blonde scratched the back of his head. “Hmm, I have a lot of work to do. Maybe tomorrow before work. Or after work.”

“Oh, please. You make work for yourself - we all know damn well you can save that stuff you do until tomorrow. Let’s go. Put on some sweatpants.”

“Snake, I really can’t-”

“We’re going.” Snake grabbed the spatula from the sink, giving it a quick rinse and dry before flipping the sandwiches over. Kaz got up and went off to his room. If he didn’t emerge in ten minutes Snake would barge in there and drag him out himself.

He removed the sandwiches from the grill, cutting Eva’s in half and sliding it in front of her on a plate. They turned in their stools and watched a rather interesting travel show on the still-running television.

They ate in silence until Kaz emerged wearing a plain white t-shirt and shorts not much shorter than the ones that Eva wore on hot days. A light jacket was thrown over his shoulder. He'd pulled his short hair into a ponytail, or at least tried to - it was childish.

“Aren’t you getting a little too old for that getup, Kaz? It's not ‘97 anymore.” Snake got up to put his empty plate in the sink.

 “I don’t know.” Kaz hopped from foot to foot with a facetious smile. “I think people seem to like it.”

“They don’t, I’m sure of it. Eva, do you think he looks good?”

She left the apartment, but not before Snake could catch her cracking a smile.

\--

The three jogged to the gym and worked out for about two hours. Snake spent most of his time weight training while Eva focused on cardio. Kaz focused on mobility; slow movements, light martial arts, and light strength training. Eva always spotted for Snake while he did free weights.

He was doing chin ups when Eva tapped him on the side. He lowered himself to the floor, removing his lifting gloves and stretching his limbs. He looked to where she pointed.

“Isn’t it just incredible?” She asked, grinning at the spectacle off in the distance.

Kaz was leaning against the leg abduction machine, talking to a woman. She was fit with long legs, tanned skin and medium-length dark hair. They were laughing a lot. When she got up to stretch, he offered her a hand. Snake rolled his eyes and went back to doing his chin-ups, and when he had finished a set, he looked back towards the machine to find them gone.

“Huh? Where did they go?” He removed his gloves again, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“The locker rooms, I think.” Eva winked. Snake sighed.

\--

Snake stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed and content. Kaz was nearly fully dressed in front of his locker, pulling on his coat. Kaz looked increasingly smug with every step Snake took towards his locker.

“So Kazuhira, how as your workout?” He grunted, toweling himself dry.

“You know, I can’t thank you enough. I worked my glutes _and_ got a blowjob in the bathroom.” Kaz grinned, patting Snake on the back. Snake grunted, throwing his locker door open and pulling out his gym bag. He threw his bag of damp clothes into it and pulled out a fresh outfit.

 “Jesus Christ, you just saying that made my skin crawl.” He began dressing. “How are you always doing this in these obscure places? There are 4 people in here right now not counting us.”

“It just takes timing and understanding, Snake.”

“Yeah?”

Kaz nodded. Snake laced up his sneakers and threw his gym bag over his shoulder. When the two emerged from the locker room, Eva was already waiting for them on a bench. Snake looked at the time on his phone screen. If he was lucky, he could make a second run to the grocery store and pick up the things he had forgotten. He rummaged through his gym bag for the slip of paper with the shopping list, and once he found it, said his goodbyes and headed towards the building’s entrance.

“Hey,” Kaz called behind him. “It’s your turn to clean the kitchen before you leave!” Snake pretended that he hadn’t heard that.

The nearest grocery store was a good 35-minute walk from the gym, luckily in the direction of the apartment complex. Snake clearly wasn’t as forward-thinking as Kazuhira Miller, so he had failed to put a coat in his gym bag. November attacked his exposed skin, but because of his stoic façade, the man barely seemed cold. His arms were a bit too hairy for any goosebumps to be visible. It still took a little too long to get there.

However, when Snake saw Dr. Huey Emmerich exiting the store from a few feet away, his immediate, subconscious response was to turn the other way and book it. But Huey had seen him first, and was already rolling himself over, waving. Snake waved back - it seemed even colder out now.

“Hi, Snake! Getting ready for the holidays?” The man wore a big grin and an even bigger sweater.

“Yeah. I forgot a couple of things yesterday so I’m just picking those up before I have to head to the station.” He put a bit more emphasis on the latter half of his sentence. He actually had quite a bit of time before he had to go in, but he didn’t want to be here with his obnoxious former client. Dr. Emmerich’s project had been one of the most elaborate Snake had ever overseen - he’d wanted to build a lab somewhere between the city and the suburbs surrounding it. The project had been so precise that a couple of the people that worked under him had complained for the first time. Snake had worked with Huey for so long that they got to know each other, to Snakes disdain. He’d learned that the man was strange but in a red-flaggish sort of way.

“Oh, cool! What are you doing for Thanksgiving? I don’t have that many plans! I’ll just be eating at home and watching holiday specials. Maybe getting some work done.” He was definitely trying to invite himself over.

 “I… Uh,” he pulled out his phone. “Kaz’s parents… they’ll be there. It’ll be pretty packed.” In a temporary fit of panic, he texted his most recent contact. Ocelot.

_I need you to call me NOW._

\- _?_

The call came a few seconds later. Snake gave Huey an apologetic look, mouthing _I’m sorry_ before answering it.

“Is there a problem?” Ocelot asked. He was shocked, clearly, and maybe even a little panicked.

“Yeah,” Snake answered in Russian, attempting to sound panicked. “I ran into one of my annoying clients who thinks we’re friends or something on the way to the store and he’s trying to invite himself to our apartment.” Snake paused and added an extra “ _What?_ ” in English for emphasis. Huey looked uncomfortable.

“Alright, tell him you have to go, then.” Ocelot laughed.

“But the groceries - I’ll forget if I don’t do it now.” Snake glanced at the store’s entrance. He was still cold.

“Just send me the list, I’ll get them for you. I’ll show up early on Thursday.” Snake sighed - it was relieved, but he played it off as distressed.

“I guess I’ll go. Thanks.” He said in English. He then added in Russian, “Stay on the phone.”

“Alright.” Ocelot responded. Snake could almost hear the wink in his voice. He covered the screen with his hand. Huey was still there. He pushed up his glasses, looking at nothing out in the distance.

“Sorry, I have to go.” Snake said, voice flat. “Nice seeing you. Have a good holiday.”

“I uh, hope everything’s fine, Snake. Say hi to Miller for me.”

“Yeah,” is all he responded with before jogging off towards his home. When Huey was out of sight, he stopped a little out of breath and embarrassed that Ocelot had to wait for him to run away from his problems like a child - although running had made his blood pump warmth throughout his body. He put the back up next to his ear.

“Thanks so much,” he breathed, still recovering from his sprint.

“It’s not problem. I know the feeling.” Ocelot paused. “Just send me a picture of the list, or if you have the time, just text it to me.”

“Alright. I didn’t cross off the things I already bought so I’ll just text you the updated list. Thanks for doing this, Ocelot.”

“It’s no problem. Will you be at the station tonight?”

“Yeah, but only for a couple of hours. Work tomorrow and all.”

“Alright, good luck. Stay safe, Snake. I can’t wait for Thursday.” Ocelot hung up the phone before Snake could respond.

He ran the entire way back. He didn’t know what had kept him running for such a long distance, but it felt amazing. He felt invigorated. Energetic. Unstoppable.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've decided to have this feature the characters in their PW days. EVA was added because i adore her and i really wanted to write her as a musician!  
> this is unbeta'd so i apologize for any mistakes! also i forgot to take a meme out of my last chapter and i apologize for that. lmao i love throwing jokez into my drafts to entertain myself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ocelot shows off his guns. ;)

Going back to work after a Sunday was never tough for Ocelot. In fact, he’d had a wonderful monday; as he’d spent much of his weekend making phone calls and disturbing people during their off-time, he had a bit less work to do when he had come in. He had been invited to lunch with the company president - just a few steps closer to becoming her personal assistant. Ocelot grinned, leaning back into the seat of his warm car as he neared a red light. He couldn’t wait to get home and put on some comfortable clothes. He wore a plain outfit; a grey dress shirt with black slacks and a patterned charcoal tie. His hair was styled neatly, a much less relaxed look than his typical weekend style. Hard rock poured from the car’s speakers, the sound muffled against the blasting heater. Today had been particularly cold.

He was very much looking forward to taking a nap and doing some extra work when he got home. He had a leftover pastrami sandwich from his special Sunday night meal and his antique collection to tend to. This would be a good week. Ocelot got onto the highway; rain began to spatter against the windshield, and he switched his wipers onto a low setting. It was rush hour, and he could see red lights ahead. He didn’t let it bother him. Tomorrow would be his last day at work until next Monday. He had plenty of time for traffic, plenty of time for driving slowly through gathering puddles. He drove for another three minutes before he had slowed to a crawl. He turned his music up, and like the misbehaved citizen he was, picked up his phone. A thought then entered his mind, one that had been left with his morning routine.

“Shit…” He had to go to the grocery store. Snake had forgotten quite a few things on his list, and as much as he wanted to go straight home, it would undoubtedly be a much better idea to get the task out of the way as quickly as possible. He traffic gradually loosened as he grew closer to his exit.

Once off the highway, the roads were once again clear. It was an easy ride to the store, and the only part of the trip that had proved frustrating were the long lines and frantic shoppers. He was out in a little over an hour. It was already pitch dark by the time he pulled into his driveway, and when he opened the door to his unit, the entrance was cold and uncomfortable. He had called for someone to remove his oven, but the dang thing wouldn’t be tossed out of his door until the next day. He’d told his landlord about the issue, and although he hadn’t been happy at all, he’d promised that Ocelot would have a new oven by Monday. Ocelot was pleased to have the honor of owning the newest oven in his entire townhouse complex. It would undoubtedly arouse so much discussion. Ocelot heaved a sigh. He didn't even know his neighbors.

He put away his own groceries that he’d picked up while at the store and left Snake’s on his counter. He went to his laundry room and began separating his clothes, listening to the ring back of the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. It took a few seconds for Snake to pick up.

“Hey. What’s up?” Snake was clearly eating - Ocelot could hear him chewing through the phone. Just as he was about to speak, a male voice called out:

“Snake, at least get up from the table when you’re on the phone. Damn.” It got quieter as Snake moved to a quieter place.

“Sorry, Ocelot. What’s going on?” Snake burped. “Sorry.”

“I’m just doing laundry. And I picked up your groceries. Want me to bring them over?” Ocelot set the washing machine, pouring liquid detergent into it as it filled up with cold water. Snake seemed to contemplate this for a moment. 

  
“Nah, I’ll get them for you. I can bring you some leftovers.”

Ocelot scratched his mustache and began dumping his darks into the washing machine. The room was loud. “Sure. I’ll be fine though, I’ve got some leftovers from yesterday.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Seriously, don’t bring anything.” Ocelot paused and said in Russian: “I’ll kick your ass.”

Snake chuckled. It was throaty; he did not have an open-mouthed laugh. “You seriously think you could kick my ass? With your little-ass arms?”

Ocelot narrowed his eyes. He certainly did not have tiny arms. He was pretty built - just leaner than Snake. Didn’t mean he couldn’t topple the guy with a bit of effort. “You know what? I probably could.”

“I’ll remember that.” A pause. “I’m going to finish dinner and then I’ll head over. Sure you don’t want anything?”

“Snake.”

“Alright. See you later.” Snake hung up, and Ocelot went upstairs to change into his lounging clothes. His room was small and simple. Across from his bed was his bathroom, which was a little bit bigger than his closet, which was a tiny walk-in located in the passage that led to the bathroom. He had a desk in one corner, which had his seldom-used home phone and a stack of books, papers, and a couple of pens. His dresser didn’t have much on it, a brush, a comb, a couple of bottles of cologne and a pair of sunglasses. A framed picture of his father. It had fallen, and Ocelot stood it back up. A picture of his mother was stuck to the mirror.

Ocelot practically fell onto the bed, now aware of how truly exhausted he was. He wondered why he hadn’t put his sandwich in the microwave so that it would have been ready when he went back down. He unbuttoned his shirt..

He was about to head back down the stairs in only a long-sleeved t-shirt and boxers briefs, but then remembered that he was to have a guest shortly. He put on an old pair or university sweatpants and headed halfway down the stairs only to go back up to retrieve a sheet from his closet.

Once downstairs, sheet slung over shoulder, Ocelot put his sandwich on a plate, moving the remaining container of salad to his table. He took out a bottle of dressing and put his dinner in the microwave to two-and-a-half minutes. He figured that would be hot enough.

After shoving the sheet in the space under his basement door (it was uncomfortably drafty), Ocelot began eating his salad. He let his sandwich sit in the microwave while he ate. The room was silent; sometimes he needed that after being at work all day, where the chatter and commands were near constant. He dumped more thousand island dressing onto his Mediterranean salad.

His sandwich was a little soggy after he pulled it from the microwave, but he still enjoyed it nonetheless. After finishing his meal, he put his head back, sitting cross-legged in his chair. He liked Snake. It felt good to have a friend. Ever since he’d graduated all those years ago, he hadn’t had any true friends - mostly acquaintances he’d lost touch with since he’d left his university. He’d moved to this new city to get a fresh start in life. He decided to transform himself completely; he dressed differently, spoke differently, acted differently. It’d helped - he attributed his current status within the company to his charisma and charm, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He really only knew his coworkers, and even then never spoke to them outside of work unless it was business-related. Ocelot hadn’t really noticed how lonely he was until his mother spoke to him about it. It’d been so long since they’d chatted. The video call had been so short.

Ocelot liked that Snake contacted him; he clearly already trusted him, which Ocelot found strange. Most of his life he’d considered himself a person that others should not confide their trust in. He was far too selfish, far too bent on his own progression. But Snake was immovable. The man had this sense of free-will that Ocelot had detected almost supernaturally. It was like he’d felt it physically in some part of his consciousness he couldn’t consciously reach.  

Ocelot nearly jumped when the doorbell rang. He ran his plate to the sink and threw away his take-out container before opening his front door. The rain had caused the temperature to drop a great deal. Snake stepped in and Ocelot shut the door quickly behind him.

“The groceries are on the counter,” Ocelot said as the other kicked off his boots. “I think I got everything, but you should check just in case.” Snake nodded.

“Thanks. Now that I think about it I acted really childish back there.” He pulled out his wallet, realized he was still wearing gloves, pulled them off. “How much do I owe you?”

“Shit. Hold on a minute. Sit down.” Snake sat on the couch and peeled off his wet coat. It was too thin for the weather, but Ocelot kept his mouth shut. “I got some groceries for myself, so I’ll have to take that amount off of the total. Want some hot apple cider?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Snake finally relaxed into the couch. “So are you still coming Thursday morning? We don’t really need help cooking anything, but it’d be good to introduce you to my roommates - uh, friends, I mean. Yeah - before we eat.”

Ocelot filled two mugs with water. He placed one in the microwave and took out two packets of instant cider from a cabinet. “I’ll come in the morning. It’d be rude if I didn’t help you guys out. It isn’t all about the meal, you know?”

“Do what you want. It’ll be hell either way. We can’t really cook for shit and the kitchen is small. We might have to use my friend’s kitchen as well. She lives across the hall from us.”

“That sounds fine.” The microwaved hummed through the silence that followed. “So how was work? What’s it like being a contractor?”

“It’s pretty slow right now. We’re working on a small project - house in a new neighborhood. It’s going pretty well. I just did some calls and answered some emails today. How about you?”

“Eh, kind of the same. Everyone was in a rush, and I think I got twice as many calls as usual. I had a great lunch with the company president.” Ocelot removed one mug from the microwaved and replaced it with the other. “Not to brag or anything, but I think I did a damn amazing job of impressing her.” He mixed the powder into the hot water and brought the mug over to where Snake sat. “Watch the carpet.”

Snake nodded his thanks and took a sip. Ocelot went to the counter, found the receipt, and began adding up the values of his own groceries.

“It was thirty-six dollars.” He finally said.

“Alright.” Snake took some money out of his wallet, heading over to the counter. “Here’s forty. The extra four dollars is a tip for doing this.” He took a sip of his cider. “Thanks again.”

The washing machine buzzed off in the distance. The microwave beeped at the same time. After making his own cider, Ocelot sat at the table. Snake sifted through the groceries, list in hand.

“Snake, you a fan of antiques?” Ocelot looked up at him, sipping his hot drink. It burned his tongue a bit, but he didn’t wince. Snake stopped what he was doing.

“I don’t know. What kind of antiques are we talking?”

“I’ve got three antique firearms. Don’t go telling your friends, but they’re worth quite a bit. I have to dust off.” He put his mug down and stood. “Follow me.” Snake seemed to hesitate before he got up. They went upstairs, socks padding against the carpeted floors. Ocelot grabbed a key from under the bathroom sink, and once in front of his dresser, he threw open the bottom drawer, revealing two revolvers and a pistol lined up neatly alongside a pair of gloves. He pulled the gloves over his hands and picked up a gun. It felt familiar in his hand. Surprisingly, when he turned his head, the man didn’t flinch.

“These,” Ocelot held the old weapon up to the light. “Are the loves of my life.”  
  
Snake grinned, looking up at the impressive weapon. “You ever shot one of these?” He reached for the gun, put Ocelot pulled it away before he could lay a bare finger on it.

“No, they’re relics. I’ve never left the house with them and this drawer stays locked most of the time.” Ocelot gave him a glove and carefully handed him the old firearm. Snake’s single blue eye gleamed at the engravings. It was quite a nice gun. It gleamed gold, untarnished and clearly expensive.

“That’s a Tranter revolver. It’s Indian. Made in the 19th century - 1865, I believe. I can’t tell you how much it’s worth, though.” Ocelot winked. “That one needs a good dusting, though.” He took the gun and glove from Snake. The man stepped toward the drawer, crouching to observe the other two guns, which were placed atop a patterned navy blue sheet. “I know I probably shouldn’t keep these in that drawer, but a display case seems a bit too much, huh?”

“Huh. They aren’t even dusty. They look pretty fine to me.”

“I suppose it’s a habit. I do this once a month.”

“God,” Snake murmured, “shouldn’t these be in a museum? How’d you even get your hands on these?” 

“Connections and a bit of haggling. Knowing people and what they want.” Ocelot gently placed the Tranter and his gloves on the bed, making his way to the bathroom. He fetched a cloth from the cabinet beneath his sink and dampened it with a bit of water. He got another cloth and went back into the room. Snake was still scrutinizing the other two guns.

“This is impressive. Tell me about this one in the middle.” Snake pointed. Ocelot was pleased that he was interested. He’d assumed that despite the guns being completely unloaded and unused by him, people would find his hobby intimidating, or even frightening. He put his gloves back on and began wiping his revolver down with the damp cloth.

“That one is… Let’s see.” He gently wiped the gun’s muzzle. After all of these years he still couldn’t help but be mesmerized by its beauty. “The one in the middle is actually a pistol. It’s a Miquelet lock pistol. This one’s Spanish. 18th century. Also worth a lot. The engravings almost tell a story, if you look at it closely. I’ll find you a pair of gloves so you can look at it in a bit.”

“Hm.” Snake grunted. Ocelot finished wiping the gun and briefly dried it with the dry cloth. He then went to place it back in the drawer. He picked up the next one. This time, Snake followed him over to the bed, arms crossed, expression focused. He began gently cleaning the next gun.

“The third one is a Colt SAA - Single Action Army revolver. It’s simple, American, 19th century, but still beautiful in its own way. This one is probably my favorite.” Ocelot looked at Snake, and they briefly made eye contact before Snake looked back down. For just a moment, Ocelot could glimpse the brilliantly flawed silver of the gun glint in Snake’s blue eye. He too looked back down at his work.

They remained fairly silent until Ocelot was finished cleaning. He offered to let Snake look at the guns a little closer. Snake accepted, and Ocelot went down to reheat their drinks while the other observed the historical relics in silence.

He leaned against the counter while the microwave hummed again. He’d decided to put both mugs in, doubling the cook time. He felt a bit embarrassed at how their conversation had come to a sudden halt. Snake had looked at him a bit strangely, as if he’d said something odd. Had he? Ocelot couldn’t recall; perhaps Snake truly did find his hobby strange. There were two minutes left for the ciders, so Ocelot went to the laundry room, throwing his darks into the dryer and preparing the washing machine for his colored clothing.

He nearly jumped when he walked out of the hallway, arms wet to the elbow, and saw Snake on the couch, sitting as if he hadn’t moved from before they’d gone upstairs.

“So, what’d you think?” He went and got the mugs from the microwave and handed Snake his. He sat at the kitchen table again, his chair turned towards Snake so that they could have a proper conversation.

“I’m still wondering how you could afford the first two - the rifle and the Indian six-shooter. Jesus Christ.” Snake looked at him seriously. “You embezzling or something?” Ocelot could only laugh.

“Trust me, if I were I’d have way more than three of those things.” He sipped at his apple cider. “You’re a contractor, right? Self-employed, I’m guessing? Do you make 18th-century-pistol-at-original-price money?” Ocelot quirked an eyebrow.

“It can be interesting. I make a lot less than a lot of people in the same business. I’ve only done one non-residential project, but I’m trying to get into more. It’s kind of tough in an urban area. Then I’ll start making more.”

“I see. How’d you get into the business?”

“I used to be a construction worker when I was younger. I got sick of it after an accident and decided to go to college. Wanted to be one of those guys who behind the projects instead of the guys who built it. I guess I’m happier. I guess I was fickle when I was younger, and as much as I like stability in terms of routine, my job can get a bit hectic. A lot of moving around. New locations, you know?” Ocelot nodded.

“And when you say ‘accident’, you mean?” Ocelot made a rapping gesture over his right eye. Snake nodded. Ocelot got up, walking towards Snake. The other man shifted uncomfortably, his face unchanging but his body giving away his anticipation. Ocelot stood in front of Snake and bent forward, scrutinizing the eyepatch.

“Hm,” Ocelot breathed after a moment, “can I see the eye?”

“What? Oh, uh, sure.” Before Snake could reach towards his own face Ocelot had the other man’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. Snake couldn't utter a single syllable; Ocelot simply took the liberty of flipping up the eyepatch himself, revealing a raw, pink, fleshy eye-socket. Ocelot whistled.

“Wow… damn, that must've been some pain.” He didn't recoil at the sight of the wound - he was interested, in fact, as to how that had happened. He let go of Snake’s face, now standing straight with his arms crossed. He waited.

“... What?” Snake seemed taken aback; perhaps it had been a bit much to grab him like that. Then again, he hadn't hurt the guy.

“You know what I'm waiting for. Tell me what happened.” Ocelot went back to the kitchen table, a playful smile just barely twisted into his expression. Snake hesitated for a beat.

“Just some flying debris. I'd taken my safety glasses off for a minute to rub my eye, next thing you know, it's fucking gone. I thought I'd gone insane. I didn't know that was happening.”

“And they let you into the VPD without an eye?”

“Well, I aced the training... But enough about me, though. I’m boring. How long have you lived here, Russian cowboy?”

Ocelot had to think about that for a while. He really didn’t remember _when_ he’d left Russia. He remembered leaving about a month after his father’s funeral. He’d been pretty young, but old enough to be angry at his mother for abandoning his father in that cold, cold place.

“I think we moved when I was eleven. Sometime around then, I don’t quite remember. I came here with my mom. We moved to Nevada and I stayed there until a few years ago.” He took a careful, contemplative sip of apple cider. “I went through middle school and high school in Nevada, and I went to DC for college, studied politics, got my degree, and ran around for awhile, not knowing what to do with myself. Then I worked in an office until two years ago, until I got a job offer here. A bigger, better office I suppose. And a better position… Bigger paycheck. And now I’m here, talking to you.” A thoughtful sigh. “It’d be great if I didn’t live in a townhouse, but sometimes you just have to deal with what life hands you.” Ocelot stopped. He’d said a lot. Snake was looking at him intently, studying him. Ocelot frowned, turning to take a gulp of his drink.

“But yeah. I wouldn’t say I’m satisfied - I mean are we _ever_ satisfied in life? … But I’m content.” Again, his mother came to mind.

“You’re right,” Snake answered, “I guess that’s where we all are.” A pause. “I should get going. Thanks for getting the groceries.” He downed the rest of his drink and went to leave it at the counter. He then went back to the couch to grab his coat, sliding it over muscular shoulders.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. You need help taking these bags out to your car?”

“Nah, I think one trip will do.” He messed around with the bags until the completely covered one arm and half covered the other, noisily swinging around as the man shifted, trying to get comfortable. Ocelot rolled his eyes and took four bags. They went to the front door, Ocelot sliding his feet into an old pair of sneakers.

“You’re not putting on a coat?”  

“We’re not going far, are we?” Ocelot opened the front door. The cold wind came like a smack to the face. How was is this cold in late November? This was January cold. He still pushed on.

Snake had parked in one of the small lots in the complex. He drove a Jeep - it seemed to suit his personal life quite well, although he didn’t know what people would think if they say their contractor pull up in such a vehicle. They loaded the bags onto the passenger seat and on the floor, then turned to look at each other. Snake again seemed contemplative. Ocelot could not wait to get back inside. After a moment, he finally spoke.

“So, I’ll see you Thursday morning?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Ocelot smiled. “I haven’t bought the liquor yet, but you should get excited. Ill surprise you guys with some good stuff.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“But I should.”

“Alright then. I’ll look forward to it.” Snake grinned for the first time in what seemed like a while. As if he’d had a lot on his mind.

They exchanged goodbyes, and before he knew it, Snake had driven off. His heart sank. Another few days in solitude, isolation, without company to lift his spirits.

Or maybe it was just cold out.

\--

Ocelot arrived at work early this morning, eager to work until the day was done and he could go home and enjoy his vacation. The skies were overcast, and the office, despite rarely being exposed to natural light, felt a bit gloomy. He still had a bit of time before his boss arrived, so he decided to make his rounds, engage in small-talk, get himself energized for a tedious day of orders and organization.

The door to Kazuhira Miller’s office was shut, but Ocelot knew that he was in there. It seemed he was always hunched over that desk, a frown fixed to his face. In rain or shine, the man came into work with a pair of sunglasses, substituting them for reading glasses when in his office. He wore the sunglasses during breaks, and when he left, too. It was a little strange; it gave Ocelot the impression that he had something to hide.

Ocelot knocked on the door, gentle enough as to not arouse suspicion. When Miller suspected it was him, he asked who it was, which had gotten him into trouble more than once. Sometimes, if he _knew_ it was Ocelot, he wouldn’t open the door.

“Come in,” came a muffled voice. Today was lucky. Miller’s face immediately drained into disdain when he saw the man step in, looking a little haughty and not nearly tired enough for an early weekday. “God, what do you want?”

“Just came in to say hi, don’t worry.” Ocelot sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“Well, you said hi, so get back up and let me work in peace.” Kaz pushed up his glasses. He had tired eyes. The man could use a haircut - his style was a little dated, approaching mullet-length.

“I just want to have a conversation with my good friend.” Ocelot leaned forward on his elbows, feigning a look of interest. Miller pressed his lips together.

“Get your shit together and act like a professional. I swear, you’re the most condescending juvenile prick in a five-mile radius. I have work to do. Get out.”

“Just tell me about your break plans and I’ll leave.” Ocelot leaned back. “I promise.”

“Hm. And you’re a secretary, a real professional, huh.”  The man licked his lips, scratched his stubble. He had skipped shaving this morning. It actually suited him better than his usual bare-faced look. Ocelot thought of his own growing mustache; the hairs were so light that it was difficult to tell that he even had one from a distance. He scratched his face as well.

“I’m just cooking and eating with my roommate and his friend - our neighbor. Nothing fancy. Maybe watch a few movies.” Kaz frowned. “You seriously need to get out. I gave myself a deadline this morning and you’re already screwing with it.”

“Always staying at the top of the heap, Kaz. It’s no wonder you’re being promoted every other month. You should be the CFO by now.” Ocelot reached forward to grab Kaz’s nose, but the man pushed his rolling chair back towards the wall.

“I swear to _God_ if you lay a finger on me-”

“Hey, hey.” Ocelot sat back, hands raised in defense. “I just want to be friends.” Ocelot nearly burst out laughing with the last word.

“Get out.” Kaz pulled back up to his desk, picking up a pen and returning his attention to his work.

Ocelot got to his feet, a wide grin plastered to his face. “Have a happy Thanksgiving, Kaz.” He winked, blew the man a kiss. “Love you!”

“I swear to- fuck. Just get out. Fucking childish.” Ocelot left the man to steam in his office like a frozen vegetable. He loved to mess with the guy, especially early in the morning. It always gave his day an interesting start. His own office was quite a few steps from Kaz’s. It actually had a window, which he considered a blessing, and was much neater than Kaz’s which Ocelot had initially found shocking. He thought that the clean-shaven, neat-haired blonde would have kept his life together a bit better - then again he was an accountant. Some day, Ocelot hoped to learn the oh-so-mysterious Kazuhira’s personal story, solve his many mysteries. He wanted to know why a man who made much more than him lived in an apartment with a roommate, or why he was almost always sporting those glasses of his.

Ocelot sat behind his desk; it was still a bit early, so he had a bit of free work time to spare before he had to go see what his boss needed to get done that day. And a little while before he had to activate “Work Adam” and try not to sound bored while he answered the phone all morning. Ocelot had gotten pretty good at sneaking into work before his boss noticed, creating the illusion that he always arrived at 7:30 sharp.

Ocelot went over a list of the knows tasks he would perform that day; it was just a bit busier than most days, most likely to the upcoming holidays. He sighed. He could already feel stress creeping up the back of his neck. Even after years of this work, it hadn’t got much easier in terms of handling work; it was a job that kept you on your toes. Ocelot quite liked that.

More than anything, he thought about Thursday. He didn’t know what to expect: what would Snake’s place look like? Who were his roommates? Would mouthy, drunk Ocelot talk the ears off of everyone in the room, earning him a permanent ban from _la casa de la serpiente?_ As much as he hated himself when drunk, he couldn’t wait to do it. He hadn’t had a good drink in a long time. It just felt pathetic when he did it alone.

His phone buzzed just then - it was most likely Snake. He picked up his phone. It was, and he’d sent an image file. It was an image of the foundation of a house upon a dirt-covered lot. A message came through while he was observing the photo.

 _Current project. Surrounded by guys who are anal about dirt placement. One of the neighbors doesn’t want a pile of dirt so close to their property but what are we going to do. Eat it?  
_ _Leave work and help me eat the dirt. Much higher pay than running around for corporate clowns_

Ocelot smiled. Snake was strange in a funny way. He texted back:

_-I think I’m good. Had a plate for breakfast, nice and warm from the microwave. Had a worm in it for protein._

_Hm. Garden dirt. I had yard dirt. Mine had a snake it it. Delicious._

_-Really, now? A little cannibalistic but I’ll take it. Just hope it wasn’t poisonous, but if so, I’ll take your Jeep when you die ;-)_

_No way. Gotta go hjfhk  
_ _Shit sorry. Typo bye_

Ocelot put his phone on silent and slipped it into his pocket. He gathered what he needed to bring to his boss’s office and stepped out the door, ready for a long but exciting day at work, followed by a triumphant return home. He couldn’t wait to get home.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! sorry that this is so late, finals are still kicking the shit out of me :( anyway, i hope you enjoy this chapter! i hope i can make these longer in the future! let me know what you think!!  
> also this is unbeta'd, so forgive any glaring mistakes once again!  
> also u guys.... i dont know shit about guns. sorry if ur a gun stan and this info is inaccurate


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Thankgiving Day and some shit goes down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, im just here updating my thanksgiving fic after christmas :0 i hope you enjoy this (xxxtra longue) chapter! :-)

“Uh, yeah, I forgot to bring it up, but I’m bringing a guest over for Thanksgiving.” Snake crammed a large chunk of meat into his mouth, watching Eva and Kaz regard him with disbelief. “What?”

“You waited  _ this _ long to tell us, Snake?” Eva sighed. “Now we have to clean the place, too. Or maybe I don’t. It’s not my apartment.”

“Don’t even try,” Kaz said, his mouth full. “Snake, you really should have told us earlier. It’s the day before Thanksgiving.”

“I didn’t think it’d be a problem - we always get too much food, we can spare some of it. It’s just one other person. We’ll be fine.” Snake belched, apologized, and went to put his plate in the sink. He felt truly relaxed for the first time in a long time; even when he could vacation, he always found himself thinking about work, thinking about how to fix things, change things. Now he’d get to focus on not burning the kitchen down and making an ass of himself in front of Ocelot. Not that Ocelot could judge. That’d been the whole reason he was coming over in the first place. 

“Well, I’m going.” Eva stood and stretched. “Gotta start cleaning my place, and my keyboard is calling my name.” 

“Hey,” Snake interjected, “it’s your turn to do the dishes, Eva.”

Eva pouted. “I was up all night working on a piece. Can’t I take a break?” Snake gave her a stern look, and the woman’s shoulders slumped in easy surrender. She began working almost immediately. Kaz had finished eating long before them, and was now sitting in deep thought, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. Snake sat back down at the table. 

“How’s work been going for you?” He asked. He didn’t usually ask Kaz much about his life outside of home. He always just assumed that not much went on in the life of an accountant. 

“Same as always. I’m exhausted.” He whipped off his glasses; he really did look bad. “This job is aging me. I keep forgetting to shave. I go to bed so late and wake up so early that I barely have time for a morning routine. I like what I do, it’s alright, it’s just that I’m…” He sighed. Snake reached over to pat him on the back. 

“You overwork yourself. You don’t need to stay up that late worrying about work. Just sleep.”

“I wish it were that easy. I feel like when I choose sleep over work, I’m just wasting time. I feel like I need to take advantage of every moment I can manage.” Kaz put his head down. “I thought you liked the smell of coffee in the morning.”

“Yeah, I mean, do what you have to do. By all means.” Snake got three beers from the fridge, placing one near the sink and sliding another to where Kaz sat. They passed the bottle opener and took a deep drink, Eva standing, back against the sink, looking content as ever. 

“Kaz, just don’t worry about work all weekend. Not once. Enjoy yourself, get some sleep, get drunk.” Eva grinned; she always looked a bit sinister, but in a beautiful way. Kaz grinned.

 “I plan on getting very drunk, thank you.” Kaz got up. “I really don’t know what to do with myself right now.”

“I have an idea,” Eva turned her attention back to the dishes piled in the sink. “I hear the gym is open until nine.”

“I… Don’t have time for this. Not today.” 

“Kaz, you always eat half the stuffing and most of the macaroni and cheese.”

“And I’ll gladly do it again this year.” Kaz threw himself onto the couch. “I haven’t died yet.” Eva put down the plate she was watching and turned around. Kaz tipped his beer to his lips while on his back, trying not to spill it all over his face. 

“You had heartburn for three hours after we finished eating last year. I almost strapped you to my bike and took you to the hospital.” 

“I’ve built up a tolerance since then. You’ll see, Eva.” 

“You could spare us the radioactive shits this year, Kaz.” Snake grunted. 

“Oh, no,” Kaz sat up again, spilling a bit of beer onto his chest. He had not yet changed out of his dress shirt. “Snake, you can’t say shit about that. Don’t pretend we didn’t have to use Eva’s toilet for a whole day because you didn’t want to go unplug your mess.”

“I was hungover. And that was Christmas, asshole.”

“Oh my God, Snake.” Eva sighed. She continued washing the dishes as a comfortable silence spread throughout the rooms. Eva finally drained the sink, dried her hands, and opened her beer. Her blonde hair was in her face, and she pushed it out of the way before drinking a third of the bottle in a single take. Snake watched her the entire time. She finished the bottle off in a little over a minute. When she noticed him watching, she smirked. 

“What, you’re not going to make a comment this time?” She deepened her voice. “‘ _ Bahhhhh _ I can do better. Quit showing off.  _ Bahhhh. _ ’”

“I don’t sound like that.” Snake frowned. lightly tapped his bottle against the table’s surface. She laughed.

“‘Kaz! Why didn’t you replace the toilet paper? What do you mean you’re leaving for work? What do you mean use my hands?’” 

“I don’t have time for this.” Snake got up and went to his room. Behind him, Eva and Kaz were sniggering, repeating the phrase “Bitch Boss” just loud enough for him to hear. He fought a smile as he sat on the edge of his bed. He was exhausted after a stressful day at work. He and Ocelot contacted each other regularly, which was nice and all, but it always seemed to add another layer of stress to his already ungainly heap. He didn’t know why; conversations with Eva and Kaz were always a breeze... Then again he had never been much of a conversationalist. Not much of a listener, either, at least when it came to non work-related things. He sighed. It was a bit early to be sleeping, but he knew he’d have to be up early in the morning, and getting up early wasn’t his thing.

Ocelot would be there. They’d be spending the whole day together - with Eva and Kaz, of course, but still. The thought filled him with a peculiar happiness that made him crack a smile in the dim light of his lamp-lit bedroom. Snake removed his clothing until he was down to his boxers. 

Snake got up again, leaving the room to get ready to sleep. Eva and Kaz were having a quiet conversation on the couch, and they ignored him for the most part. Kaz was still in work clothes. Snake heard Eva talking about how she couldn’t imagine any job within the music industry worse than being a DJ.

The two said their “good nights” when Snake left the bathroom, and his closed his bedroom door behind him, fully prepared for sleep. He checked his phone one last time; one missed call. It was none other than Ocelot, whose contact name had been changed to simply “Ocelot”. He called back, sliding himself under the covers and closing his eyes. He picked up almost immediately. 

“Snake,” he said immediately. “I’m a little stressed out.”

“Hey Ocelot. What’s the matter? You don’t have to bring much, I told you that already.”

“I don’t know. Snake, I’m… Christ, I don’t know.” He paused. “How was work?”

“C’mon, Ocelot, what’s the matter?”

“Snake, did you pity-invite me to your place?” Ocelot was unusually quiet. Snake frowned. Did it seem that way? Snake had no idea; he had no idea whether it was a pity invite either. He didn’t know what he had done. 

“Of course not. I figured you could use some company-”

“Which… is a pity invite, yes?”

“Ocelot, my God. What’s the matter?” Snake knew the man was bullshitting him. 

“Snake… I talked to my mom today. It’s almost been a year since we’ve last spoken.”

“Did she… Uhh…” 

“We had a … nice conversation. She’s proud of me. I’m so glad she’s alive.”

“Alive? What is she, a Nascar racer or something?” Ocelot chuckled, albeit with little humor.

“I’ll… tell you that some other time. Snake, I told her about you.” Snake’s heart froze in his chest, and for a moment, his breath stopped.

“You  _ what? _ ” He mentally punched himself in the stomach for that response. 

“Oh, I was just talking about work, then other things, then I talked about the oven and you came up. I hope you don’t mind.” He paused. “She thinks you’re handsome.”

“I mean, if she’s your mom she’s got to be stunning.”  Snake sunk lower under the covers, closing his eyes. What had he just fucking said? And how had Ocelot shown his mom what he looked like?

“Whoa, Snake. You hitting on me?”

“Wh- I- uhhh, no. Just a joke. Not about your mom but… uh-”

“I’m just messing with you, don’t worry.” Another brief moment of silence. “I miss her, Snake.”

“She can't visit for the holidays?” 

“It’s complicated. She could try, but I can't blame her for not wanting to take risks in such a dangerous line of work. She’s incredible, and I don't want her to have to throw away everything she’s made for herself because of me.”

Snake rubbed his nose. Ocelot was really opening up to him. Something about it warmed his heart. Just a bit.

“Ocelot, she’s your mother. There’s no need for you to feel that way about her making sacrifices for you.” 

“I know, but I'm a grown man now. My business is mine, hers is hers. We don't get involved in each other’s trades like that, you know. It'd feel like compromise.” Snake sighed. This was complex, and he needed sleep.

“Well, you'll see her soon enough. Hopefully.” He made a show of yawning. “Eh, long day at work today.”

“Right, right. I'm sorry. I'll let you sleep. I'll see you in the morning, big guy.” 

“... Yeah, night.” Snake hung up this time.  _ Big guy? _ Snake grinned, suddenly overwhelmed by a warm contentedness. He shut off his phone and hooked it up to the charger. It took him a while to fall asleep, but it happened eventually. He could still hear Eva and Kaz chattering over the television as he sank into peaceful sleep.

\--

Ocelot checked the back seat of his car a third time. Each time, he thought he had everything, but found himself back in the kitchen to grab something else. He was probably overdoing it - he was a guest after all, and they probably didn't expect him to bring much in the first place. But he was also a guest, and wanted to impress the hosts best as he could. Especially Snake. Making the man smile seemed like an accomplishment, a great feat. 

It seemed everything was finally ready. Ocelot stood in front of the mirror one last time. He knew he'd be in the kitchen most of the day, but he still wanted to look presentable. So he'd gone all out; he'd cut his hair, and it was now no longer neck-length. He'd styled a bit in the front. He wore his leather jacket over a red sweater. He wore regular jeans. Satisfied, the man turned the bathroom light off, running downstairs and grabbing his keys from the counter. He did one last check to make sure nothing was missing. Although it appeared so, he still felt dissatisfied as he'd pulled out of his driveway.

Ocelot mindlessly followed his GPS to his destination, which was a relatively short distance from where he lived. He spent the 20 minute drive listening to music he didn't quite like and passing by streets he didn't quite recognize. A part of his mind was still questioning: was he entering a space he didn't belong in? Did Snake even like him? Snake almost always called and texted first, sure, but the thought did little to reassure him. 

“Oh, God…” He groaned half in Russian. He was overreacting. He never thought that being alone for so long would impact him on such a personal level, but it was happening. It was horrific. Snake occupied most of his idle thoughts, now. He'd taken the spot where his mother had once been, but in a way, he was okay with it. These were fresh thoughts, not the same, stale, miserable thoughts of his mother’s face and the next time he'd see it in person. Or of how she could come back disfigured, mutilated. Like Snake, only a target. Or if she’s finally call one last time and say  _ It’s not safe, kitten. I can never see you again. _

The GPS told him to turn right into the complex. He did. There were four staggered apartment buildings. He searched for a guest spot, which took him a while. The place was packed. He saw a couple of cars parked on the grass. He texted Snake saying that he was there before grabbing an armful of his things, kicking his car door shut.

He found Snake’s building, #3, very easily. He buzzed for the apartment number, his red-gloved hand trembling ever-so-slightly.

“Hello?” Came a female voice. Did he have the right place? 

“Hi, this is Adam. John’s friend.”

“He’s on his way down. I'll buzz you in.” The door clicked and Ocelot threw it open with two fingers. He staggered into the lobby and sat on a couch, awaiting Snake’s arrival. He emerged from a hallway mere seconds after Ocelot had sat down. He was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. Ocelot suddenly felt overdressed, and the smell of his cologne became unbearable. He smiled, nodded his chin towards Snake.

“Hey.” 

“You need a hand with those?” Snake scratched the back of his head. 

“What, these?” Ocelot looked down at his armful of groceries. “Yeah, actually.”

Snake took the three bottles, inspecting one closely. “Hm.” He turned his attention back to Ocelot. “What's all that? I said not to bring much.” They went up to the elevator, Snake punching the “up” button with his elbow. 

“You didn't expect this? C’mon, you know I'd feel bad if I didn't.”

“I guess.” The elevator came a minute later. The two, along with three other people, began their ascent. Snake stepped off at the fourth floor, and Ocelot followed. They turned left and went down a hall. Apartment 417. Ocelot’s fingers clenched around the bags in his hands. 

Snake opened the door, revealing a pretty damn large apartment. He was astonished, actually. It wasn't much fancier than his townhouse unit, as this place was just a bit messy, but Ocelot was impressed. 

“Alright, let’s just put these on the counter.”

He followed Snake into the unit. Two people, both blonde, stood in the kitchen, messing with the oven. They both turned around when they heard the men approaching with bags and bottles. Ocelot’s heart froze, thawed, then leapt. He nearly dropped his bags on the ground. 

“ _ Miller? _ ” Ocelot let out. Miller seemed just as upset and confused.

“Ocelot? What the fuck?” He looked at Snake, who seemed more confused than everyone in the room combined. “Snake, this is your coworker? Because he's  _ my  _ coworker, too.”

“Coworker? Snake?” Ocelot turned to the man who looked simply frightened, like he'd been caught in some obscure lie.

“I… uh, told him we were coworkers to make it less weird?” The man was looking everywhere but at their faces. The woman looked about in awe.

“To make  _ what  _ less weird?” Ocelot gave Snake a questioning look. 

“Snake, were you aware that this guy was my shit coworker?”

“I didn't know!”

“Shit coworker? And here I am thinking I was your favorite.”

“What are you doing here? Snake, what is this shit?”

“Oh my god…” The woman breathed, heading back into the kitchen. Ocelot sighed as well. 

“I didn't know you guys knew each other, but don't go blaming me for that. If you two want to bicker like children all day, Eva and I will go to her apartment and have our own dinner. Jesus…” 

Ocelot had embarrassed himself. He flushed. He'd gone and disrespected the man’s roommate, a guy who'd definitely known Snake longer than he had. Shit. After all he did to come off a certain way, he'd dashed that all away and acted like a child. How did he not suspect this initially? Had Snake dropped any hints? Had Miller? Ocelot hadn't felt this stupid in his life.

Miller returned to the kitchen, tense with frustration. Snake and Ocelot placed their items on the counter and stood a moment. 

“I guess I should show you around.” 

“Yeah.”

Snake showed him where the bathroom was, showed him the living room, Miller’s room, Eva’s studio, and finally, his own bedroom. It was rather simplistic, as Ocelot expected. There was a bed against the wall, a dresser without a mirror (a simplistic mirror was stuck to the opposite wall instead) a simple table with an office chair (littered with papers), and a closet that overflowed with clothing. There was clothing littered about his room as well. Snake didn’t clean for guests, it seemed. It fit him well, and made Ocelot more comfortable.

“Snake.” The man turned to look at him. Ocelot couldn’t maintain eye contact; his eyes were such a scathing blue; he felt like he was being read too deeply. “I’m sorry about going off on Miller like that. I’ll try to behave tonight.”

“Behave?” Snake looked a little embarrassed. “I mean, feel free to act like adults tonight.” He sighed and added, very much under his breath, “Don’t say it like that…”

Ocelot didn't have the time to question his comment, as the man had already begun to leave the room. Ocelot followed him like a puppy. Eva and Miller were still fussing over the oven.

“Snake,” Miller called out, his head was in the oven, so his voice echoed from within. “We can't seem to get the oven to work, and it's a little crowded in here as is, so take some stuff and start making things across the hall.”

“And please don't fuck up.” Eva added. 

Ocelot grabbed the ingredients needed for macaroni and cheese while Snake decided he'd give the sweet potato casserole a try. No one dared touch the turkey or the chickens. Neither wanted to be the one to ruin the main attraction.

They crossed the hall and Snake opened the door, revealing a studio apartment that was neat yet cluttered, if that was even possible. More instruments and complex-looking electronics were packed tightly into corners and leaned against various walls.

“God, I thought she said she'd cleaned,” Snake muttered, putting his handfuls of ingredients on her counter. The woman's apartment had to have been the size of Snake and Miller’s living room and kitchen, with an added tiny bathroom. He was a little shocked at the difference.

Ocelot put some water on to boil and began searching the drawers for a cheese grater. He found it in a cabinet she began his task. Snake was still reading a recipe like it were a textbook. He’d begun eating the bag of marshmallows.

“Snake, don't eat all of those, now.”

“Huh?” He seemed to just then notice his hand in the bag. “Oh.” He kept scrolling through his phone. “Ocelot, you just had to go and buy real sweet potatoes. You could’ve just picked up the pie, too.”

“That ruins the fun.” Ocelot smirked, pulling out his phone and searching up a recipe for Snake to follow. He himself didn't quite know how to make baked mac and cheese, but he felt that if he figured it out on his own, Snake would be impressed by it. Although judging by how much Snake was struggling to deal with potatoes gave him the impression that merely boiling the pasta properly would impress him. 

Snake began peeling the potatoes straight from the bag, taking way too much of the inside off with the peeler. He was wasting a lot of food.

“Snake,” Ocelot went over and grabbed up the bag of sweet potatoes. “You need to wash these first. They’re covered in dirt!” Snake looked ever-so-slightly embarrassed.

“What? How does that make sense? The skin is dirty, so when I peel it, the inside is clean.”

“Oh, God. You still have to wash them.”

“So you're telling me that's not how I'm supposed to do it?”

“Snake, no…”

“Makes no sense.” The man grumbled, crossing his arms with a certain indignance. Ocelot went to clean the potatoes, left them for Snake to handle, and tended to the pasta water. When the noodles were boiling, Ocelot went to help Snake, who was still struggling a bit. They worked in silence for a while.

“Have you heard from your family lately, Snake?” Ocelot didn't look at him, but the brief pause that followed the question made him a bit uncomfortable, as if he'd crossed some sort of dusty, long-untouched line. Had he?

“No,” Snake finally answered. “I’ve never really had a family. Just those two, really. I've known Eva for a really long time.” Ocelot’s heart sank; this was nothing but a reminder that he truly hadn't discovered Snake, although he wasn't sure why he felt so possessive. He felt ridiculous. The man had a life.

“Oh. When did you two meet?” 

“God, high school, I think.” Snake tossed a too-slim sweet potato into the growing orange pile and picked up another. “Yeah. We dated for a while, actually. A high school thing, nothing serious. Then we graduated, and she went off to music school in a big city while I did my own little thing.” 

“Huh. How did you both end up here?” 

“We kept in contact all those years. She was actually the only person to visit me when I lost my eye.”

“No one else came?”

Snake frowned. “I didn't know anybody else. No one from high school, my job. Not that it's a big deal.”

“Do you still love her?” Ocelot held his breath, and went over to the boiling pot so he wouldn't have to look Snake in the face. 

“Yeah, she's my best friend.” Dear God. Ocelot let out his breath, feeling like a fool for not expecting an answer like that.

“No, are you still in love with her?” 

“Oh. Uhh, no, not anymore. I couldn't live without her, but… yeah…” 

“What about Miller? How did you meet that piece of work?” The potato pile was finished, and Ocelot began rinsing them once again. 

“Kaz? Oh man, when the hell  _ did  _ I meet him?” Snake scratched his cheek, brows furrowed in thought. “I think he might have been… fuck, oh yeah. Damn, he was doing this volunteer program at the hospital through his little Ivy League school. He brought me my meals a lot and we talked some. He was really funny, and I liked his spirit and work ethic. We kept in touch after I was discharged.

“A couple of years ago he was laid off, and couldn't afford his rent. He called me and asked if I had an extra room in my apartment. I didn't at the time, but I was looking to upsize since I'd started getting paid more. We worked it out and decided on where we live now. Eva moved across the hall last year. Funny thing is, Kaz can move out anytime he wants to. He makes good money. But I think he's afraid of getting fired again, and living here makes him feel stable, so he won't.”

“Strange guy.” Was all Ocelot could say.

“Hah, I don't know what's stranger, his work habits or the fact that he makes us eat dinner with the people that he sleeps with, sometimes.”

“Jesus…” Ocelot smiled, feeling the last of his leftover anxiety wash out of him. The two chatted while they attempted to figure out how cooking worked. Eventually, the casserole was set aside for baking and the macaroni and cheese was placed in the oven to be checked on frequently rather than properly timed. They headed back to Snake’s apartment, which was filled with a heavenly aroma. The turkey was sitting in a bowl, already seasoned, and Miller was busy working on the cornish hens. Eva was making what Ocelot presumed was stuffing, judging by the stuffing mix near her elbow, dangerously close to the edge of the counter. 

“Hey, Eva, you keeping an eye on that one?” He nodded his head towards Miller, who was sliding the chickens into the now-working oven.

“Don't worry,” Eva winked. “I’ve been watching anti-chef over here.” She resumed her work, while Miller spun around, glaring at Eva, then Snake, and upon seeing the grin on his face, Ocelot, too

“You're still on that anti-chef bullshit? You two are so unappreciative. Full of shit.” The man retorted.

“Hey, if you could actually cook we wouldn't have a reason to call you that, Kaz.” Eva mixed the stuffing with a steady hand, triple-checking her phone, probably to see if she was even doing it correctly.

“Miller, it's okay to admit that you can't cook. None of us really can.” Ocelot interjected, crossing his arms, his eyes never leaving Miller’s. The other man wiped his hands on his apron, which unsurprisingly featured a large pair of breasts made to fool others into thinking the wearer had a nice rack. Ocelot rolled his eyes.

Miller crossed his arms. “ _ Can't cook? _ God, what the hell has he been telling you?”

“That you all suck at cooking.”

“ _ Snake.  _ You know I cook you both excellent meals when I have the time!”

“But you never have the time. Besides, you use a cookbook.” Snake went over to the counter, sifting through what could be done next.

“What? So?” Miller sputtered.

“It means you can't cook for shit, Kaz. It’s the recipe. We all use recipes, Kaz.”

“It doesn't-  _ God…  _ It always comes out better than what you two can  _ conjure  _ up, doesn't it? But you and Eva always go out hunting and you bring back pounds of meat I barely know how to handle. Good beef meals are easier to come up with than  _ buffalo,  _ Snake.”

“Buffalo? When have I-”

“Alright, kids.” Eva chimed in. “I think that's enough. Ocelot, have you ever fried a turkey?”

Ocelot was a little caught off-guard by her acknowledgement of his presence, and hesitated before answering. 

“Uh, no, unfortunately. I usually just bake it.”

“Well, fortunate for you, I vaguely remember how to do this from last year. Come help me.” She beckoned for him to come into the kitchen; his eyes met Snake’s for an outstretched second before he rolled up his sleeves again and joined Eva. She had her blonde hair in a ponytail and her face was youthful yet outlined with sharp wisdom. She smiled when she noticed him observing her, softening the edges of her face. He looked away, embarrassed. Snake and Miller had gone to the other unit, taking some ingredients with them.

“Well, it’s still barely past morning, and we don't have to fry this turkey until forty or so minutes before we eat, but I just want to go through the steps so that we know what's going on in the future. Got it?” Before he could even answer, she strode into her studio, coming back out with her laptop. Together, the two searched through a few articles, piecing the steps together based on the common steps found throughout. 

“Wait,” Ocelot started once they thought they'd devised a plan. “Should we do this on the patio? The oil might get all over the place, make a big mess. Plus this fryer is fucking huge.”

“What? Oh, yeah. Help me carry it out so we don't forget.” 

Ocelot and Eva carried the device outside without much effort. Eva was social, charming, but Ocelot found his mind wandering more than usual. Overthinking. Snake kept looking at him with some expression on his face that he just couldn't read. It was like a Snake-exclusive emotion, like confusion with branches that reached out to brush other subtle emotions. Sure, they were comfortable together - conversation always came easily and Ocelot found that in many ways, Snake made his output on life a little more optimistic, although the guy was in no way an optimist. But he couldn't shake that feeling of being an outsider on a level that transcended the physical. Like Snake just couldn't let him in on the parts of him that were even the slightest bit intimate. Ocelot liked to know people from the inside-out, to observe. Snake was a tough one, which was why he'd gotten some strong liquor to coax that shadowed side out of him. Hopefully it worked. Even a man like Ocelot, who found that it took a copious amount of liquor to get him even slightly drunk, wobbled after a few shots of what he'd brought. He grinned.

“Hey, Ocelot.” Eva snapped her fingers in front of his face, visibly frustrated with his lack of focus on whatever she was discussing. “Are you even paying attention?”

“Uh, yeah.” He lied, quickly scanning the laptop that the two were sitting in front of since… since some time in the past three minutes. “We’re making cranberry sauce soon.” 

Eva smiled. Again, it looked dangerous, not combative, but too knowledgeable. 

“Well, no. I was talking about my upcoming gigs, but, yes, we were going to make the cranberry sauce.”

“Alright. I know how to do that. My mom used to make it when I was little.”

“Nice. Get started for me, then.” She crouched in front of the oven to check on the hens and returned to Ocelot’s side, thinking, looking over at the leftover ingredients on the counter.

“What kind of music do you play?” Ocelot’s attempt at redemption seemed successful as a genuine smile lit up the woman’s face.

“I experiment with a new genre every few months. I wish I could play some of my stuff for you, I know there'd be something that you like in there. I could play it out from my laptop but then I'd focus on my music rather than the meal.” She playfully flicked a lock of his newly-cut hair from the side of his face. “You'll hear it some other time.”

“I, uh, hope so.” Ocelot searched the cabinets for a small pot, dumping a bag of frozen cranberries into it and turning on the heat. He didn't quite know what to do next, so he stood watching the pot as if it were on the verge of boiling over. Eva come over to watch him, which defeated the purpose of him remaining by the pot in the first place.

“You know, before you came here, Snake talked about you like you were some sort of off-limits topic. It's strange, you're pretty normal. I can't help but wonder why he was being so cryptic.” Eva turned to him as if performing an analysis. 

“What do you mean by that?” He asked in return, quite genuinely. Was Ocelot some sort of strange, personal secret?

“He never said your name, and always referred to you as his coworker, although I'm pretty damn sure Snake doesn't work at Kaz’s company.” Ocelot truly did not know what to say to that.

“Really, now?”

“Yeah. How  _ did  _ you two meet?” Her expressions was full of mischief, as if she expected him to weave her a tale of deceit and denial. Well, the truth  _ was  _ often underwhelming. 

“I guess it wouldn’t be best to tell you this while we’re in the kitchen, but my oven caught fire. It was John - Snake, I mean, who came with a few other firefighters to lecture me.” Ocelot smiled. “I ran into him at the grocery store soon after that, and he gave me food and invited me over.”

“Interesting,” Eva cooed, leaning on an elbow. “That’s very cute.” A raging warmth crept up Ocelot’s neck.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing.” She plucked an orange from a bowl atop the fridge, as well as a knife from a drawer Ocelot made a mental note to remember. “You know,” she said, slowly slicing the fruit in half. “He’s sort of an ‘eggs in one basket’ type of guy when it comes to friends. We were surprised he was bringing a guest. Shocked, actually.”

“Dang, were you?”

“Yeah.” 

Ocelot turned away from her smile, checking the pot of Cranberries, which had boiled down to a satisfactory state. Eva squeezed some orange into the pot while Ocelot stirred in the sugar. He left it to sit on the burner a little longer. Eva sat at the counter, head back and eyes closed. Then, as if she were alone, she tossed her t-shirt to the floor, revealing a red bra. Ocelot pretended to be fascinated by the overcast skies outside. 

“I’m going to check on Snake.” Ocelot said, not intending to speak as loudly as he had.

“Sure,” Eva responded without opening her eyes. “I’ll start the pies. Tell them we’re done with everything we need on this side.”

“Alright.” Ocelot left the woman to cool off or whatever and headed into her apartment, which he was starting to think didn’t belong to her at all - she seemed so at home at Snake’s. 

He opened the door to find Miller working in the kitchen as if in a competition while Snake looked upon in awe, arms crossed. Snake nodded his head at Ocelot when he came in. Miller ignored him. 

“We’re pretty much done over there, Eva’s just getting started on the pies. How are you guys doing?”

“I don’t really know.” Snake scratched the side of his nose, then rubbed his eyepatch. “You’re better off asking Kaz.” 

“Hey, Miller-”

“You’re better off asking Snake to ask me.” Miller interrupted, still focused on the task at hand. 

“Better off? Jesus Christ.” Snake released something that wasn’t quite a grunt or a sigh either. “Kaz, what have we gotten done so far?”

Miller turned around, facing Snake with a tight smile. “Well, _Snake,_ I’m glad you asked. We finished the sweet potato casserole and the macaroni in cheese. I also made some rice with cilantro and peas, and I’m about to put these roasted potatoes of the oven.” The man turned back around, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “There’s _so_ much leftover cheese and pasta, by the way. Want me to make another pan of mac and cheese?”

Snake shook his head. “Nah, let’s save it.” He then looked at Ocelot. “There, you good now?”

“No, not yet.” Ocelot grinned, practically floating to where Miller stood. “ _ Wow,  _ Miller, you did all this?” 

Miller stood there for a moment, his lip twitching. Ocelot leaned in closer. 

“Ocelot, get out of my space. God.”

“I’m just watching the master chef work his magic. So tell me, how did you summon the sheer willpower it takes to make potatoes. I mean did you cut these in half?” He put his hands on Miller’s shoulders. 

“Don't touch me,” the man grumbled, shaking him off. “I swear to god.” 

“Alright, looks like you've got things under control. I'll go.” He made his way over to Eva’s single couch. Snake, who’d been leaning against the counter, looking down as if embarrassed, made his way over, sitting as respectable a distance he could from him. 

“You're different around him.” Snake’s eyes burned into his for a very uncomfortable moment. Ocelot turned away, closing his eyes. “It's interesting.”

“I’ve known Miller for a couple of years.” Ocelot leaned back. He was admittedly embarrassed once again, but a chance to mess with Miller was a chance he would never let slip past him. He decided to let it go. 

“Man, I'm hungry.” Snake leaned back too, his hand resting on his stomach. 

“Me too. Only thing holding us up is the potatoes. Eva’s just getting the pies ready to bake for after dinner.”

“Good. Let me find the remote.” Ocelot felt Snake get up from the seat. Everything got quieter, and quieter, and quieter…

\--

Ocelot had kept his count. It helped keep him rational and sober. He'd had three helpings of macaroni, a cup of cranberry sauce, half of a cornish hen and a turkey drumstick he'd had to fight Miller over. To wash it down, he'd had about three Moscow mules, a couple… two or three… or was it just one shot of gin? How many shots of vodka had he had? And he was sure he'd eaten more. He decided then and there to give up on his count. 

Eva seemed poised enough - she was definitely drunk, that was clear, but she still seemed able to form coherent sentences. Snake was quieter than usual, and hadn't stopped eating since they'd sat down. Most importantly, the more they drank, the most Ocelot felt like starting an all-out fight with Miller. He loved provoking the guy, and the influence of the alcohol only made him feel like he had more power over him.

Their conversation had come to a slow halt, and a hint of dejection hung in the thick air. The aroma of food seemed to have died a bit. Eva finished off a beer, and held it up by the handle.

“Snake, you ready for this one?” Snake seemed to snap out of a stupor and looked up at her blankly.

“Oh, God. Put the bottle down.”

“Just throw the bottle, Eva. Preserve the tradition.” Miller leaned forward, grinning. “Do it.”

“What?” Ocelot looked at the three of them, wondering if he was dreaming. 

“When we finish our bottles, we throw them at Snake. It's a… it's funny.” Eva laughed, posing to hurl the glass bottle at Snake. Ocelot flinched.

“God, stop lying to Ocelot. Put that bottle down. What kind of weird fucking joke…” Snake tore into some turkey and washed it down with some water. Eva stood and poured them all shots. Ocelot was still baffled. He was buzzing a bit.

“What should we dedicate this shot to?” He announced once Eva had sat once again. He wanted the attention focused on him.

“Oh.” Snake raised his glass. “Here’s a shot to the time Kaz hooked his computer to the TV with a USB cord so he could have cybersex with a girl in Brazil.”

Ocelot and Eva burst out laughing. He could physically see Miller turning red.

“It was an HDMI cable and she was from Bolivia.” He growled with his hand over his mouth. 

“Just take the damn shot.” Snake smirked and threw his head back to take a shot. The rest followed. Warmth spread across Ocelot’s chest and throat. He fought the urge to cough. 

“God, who's going to clean this mess up?” Eva sighed. “You guys fucked my apartment up, too.” 

“You're never in there, so it'll be a good exercise for you to learn how to clean in again.” Snake responded. He tried to put some food in his mouth, but the rate of his chewing suggested that he was more than full enough. They hadn't even gotten to eat their pies.

“Hey, I don't hear you two complaining about my goddamn - whatever. Jesus. Where’s my shirt?” The woman stood, sat again, then stood, searching the floor for her clothing.

“Amazing you kept your shirt on too, Snake.” Kaz observed, watching Eva scan the floor. “I thought it'd be off by now.”

“Why, should I take it off for this special occasion?” Without waiting for an answer, Snake took his top off, revealing a fit and hairy torso. Ocelot couldn't look away - at least until he noticed Miller looking at him. Ocelot stared Kaz dead in the eye as he took a sloppy bit of food. The man turned his attention away, thankfully. Eva, unsuccessful at finding the shirt that  was clearly located a couple of feet away from the stool she'd been sitting on when she'd dropped it, returned to the table. It was quite the spectacle, Snake and Eva, shirtless, Miller still wearing his titty apron… Again, he felt a bit isolated. 

“I'll get the pies, then.” Ocelot got up and brought the tins over to the messy table. Miller rather aggressively informed him that there was whipped cream in the fridge, so Ocelot retrieved it and returned.

The first cut was jagged and uneven, and the amount of whipped cream Snake put on his slice ought to have been illegal. 

“How's it taste?” Eva smirked up at him, waiting for the accolade, the celebration.

“It's alright. Could have used some more things, I think.” Snake said, mouth very much full.

“Oh, what do you know?” Eva dismissed his critique with a lazy wave of the hand and got her own dessert plate. 

None of them had the stomach capacity to handle the cake; there had been too much food, and  _ way  _ too much alcohol. Ocelot couldn't fathom the thought of having to eat another meal in the future. He felt sick enough to vomit, and drunk enough to fall asleep in it. 

“I'm… going to the couch. The food was good. Especially the stuff you made, Snake.” Ocelot winked at Snake, who looked awfully confused. Miller didn't bother saying words to accompany his facial expression. Then suddenly he was up, darting towards the bathroom. Snake’s eyes followed the man with pity before he got up and fell onto the couch. Ocelot next to him at a distance that wasn't quite respectable. He just wanted a bit of comfort, and sitting close enough to Snake made him absorb his heat.

Eva cleaned her plate and slunk off into her studio, shutting the door and not bothering to turn on the lights. Snake and Ocelot were still silent when Miller emerged from the bathroom. Without a word, he went off to his room, hand pressed against his forehead. 

Ocelot groaned, laying across the couch, the top of his head pressed against the side if Snake’s thigh.

“You shouldn't lay like that. In case you vomit.” Snake yawned. “You alright?’

“I think I fucked up. I  _ know  _ I've fucked up, Snake. I'm so tired.”

“What are you talking about?” The man’s words were slurring, and he looked ready to pass out. 

“My mom, I said some bad things to her and I don't feel as bad as I should about it. I didn't tell you this when… we talked that time because I don't want you to think I'm a bad person, but I am, Snake. I'm bad. But there's…” Ocelot leaned on Snake’s shoulder. The other tensed up before relaxing. Ocelot noticed then that he'd switched to Russian. “I can't think in English right now. I do things and I give them a lot of thought, but do I give it enough thought? Will thinking more make me feel more? Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ ”

“I… I don't know, Ocelot.” Ocelot chuckled, making Snake grin.

“I know I'm just talking nonsense.” Ocelot smiled.

“Huh. You smoke cigars?” Snake asked, picking himself up from the couch. Ocelot felt cold without him there.

“No, I don't. But I'll come with you if you're smoking.” 

Snake nodded, grabbing a cigar from a box before stepping out onto the patio. Ocelot followed and was immediately struck by a cold gust. Snake seemed unaffected. The cold did nothing to sober him up a little, although he felt a bit less nauseous. Snake was sitting on the ground, looking out at the trees and lights. Ocelot sat next to him. Close - for warmth, of course. He watched the man closely as he smoked. There was no need to speak; such was the beauty of setting, breathtaking beauty. Snake's movements were definitely clumsy, but the sight of muted moonlight gleaming on skin was distracting enough for Ocelot to barely notice.

Snake looked at him then, his single eye catching the light from within the apartment. Without breaking eye contact, Snake put the cigar out on his own arm, edging closer to the other man. Ocelot was vaguely fearful, although he could not fully comprehend their situation. With some slight struggling, Snake managed to get to his knees. 

“Ocelot. Adam. Let me kiss you.” He said in a voice so uncharacteristically soft that Ocelot thought that he'd stolen it.

“Of course you can.” Ocelot breathed. Slowly, gently, Snake pushed Ocelot’s back to the ground. The pavement was cool against his newly shaved head. Snake pressed his lips against the corner of his mouth, chewed his bottom lip, kissed his neck and collarbone. Ocelot didn’t move a muscle; there was so much going on. So he laughed. Albeit softly.

“Snake, you’ve done everything but kiss my lips. Why? Does it taste like Miller’s cooking?” Snake paused for a moment as if stunned. He then held Ocelot’s face in his hands and ran his tongue over the other man’s lips, then prodded them open. Snake was aggressive and ate at him hungrily, savagely. Ocelot held the man’s bare waist with trembling fingers and forced himself to acknowledge that this was real and happening and that he  _ loved  _ it. He was lucky. And so hopelessly drunk.

Snake stopped then, leaving Ocelot feeling cold and needy once again. 

“Wh-”

“It’s barely seven, I have neighbors. Let’s go in.” 

“Do we have to?” He groaned, stretching out onto the pavement. His socked foot touched a flower pot. Snake didn’t answer. He stood and held out a hand, which Ocelot reluctantly took. He thought of the unopened third bottle of liquor sitting on the counter. 

“Snake. I want to do another shot. A few more shots. Just the two of us. Please.”

Snake, however, somehow managed to pick him up. With little effort, Ocelot was dumped onto the couch. His eyes grew heavy and his blinks seemed to freeze more and more as the world around him spun slowly. 

He was not awake to feel the man turn him on his side and throw a blanket over him. He also was not awake to feel Snake’s lips briefly press against his before he turned the kitchen lights off, leaving Ocelot to lie slumbering, alone, in two different kinds of darkness.   
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snake does his thing and Eva eats cold-ish pizza, and Ocelot makes a god damn fool of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i could've uploaded this a lot sooner, but i thought that the chapter was so short that i should release two at once. but i've been busy. chillin. and starting a new semester at school. but anyway, i hope you all enjoy this, and also don't think it's weird that i'm continuing this holiday fic through january and february most likely!!!! dang!!!

Snake awoke in a fit of panic, covered in sweat and night grime and a questionable amount of what he hoped was drool. His head was pounding, and the horrid taste in his mouth made him feel like a monster of sorts. He was in his bed, which was good, but his pants smelled like sleep. He was still shirtless, and felt as if he’d been pressed flat; he peeled himself from the damp sheets and sat over the edge of the bed. His stomach rolled and his mouth began to fill with warm saliva. 

Needless to say he vomited a great deal that afternoon. Snake was much worse off than the other two. Turns out both Eva and Ocelot had woken up pretty early, and Eva had taken Ocelot home while the other two slept like bricks. Kaz had gotten up about an hour before Snake, who had ended up slithering from beneath his blanket around 2pm. Snake recalled passing out at a pretty early time, and found it alarming that he’d been asleep all that time. He needed to call Ocelot - he  _ wanted  _ to call Ocelot, that was, but for some strange reason when the thought of the man pooled into his unsteady mind, he felt unease. Dissatisfaction. Embarrassment. Had Thanksgiving really been that bad? He tried to reel through the events of last night, he couldn’t remember anything crucial. They’d cooked a lot - the kitchen had not yet been cleaned. Vomiting made Snake both hungry and nauseous at the same time, and as he chewed through at least half of a pumpkin pie (much of which ended up in the toilet mere minutes after consumption), a bag of ice pressed to his burning temple, he dug deeper and deeper into his mind, searching for answers. Eventually, he grew frustrated and tossed the remaining pie into the trash.

As Eva was busy cleaning her own kitchen, Snake and Kaz spent the new few hours lying across their beds, Snake getting up occasionally to vomit. This was the worst hangover he’d had in awhile; it was as if he’d gotten hit with a car, but on the inside of his head, and the car was carrying a contagious stomach virus that prevented him from eating yesterday’s leftovers. By seven that night, he and Kaz were wordlessly sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, occasionally glancing at the untouched mess in the kitchen and at the dining table. Snake suspected that Kaz was fine enough to get started on his own, and was about to call him out on it, but decided that he wouldn’t want to get started on that shitshow alone either. Commercials promising unreal Black Friday deals flashed across the screen. Kaz had had his sunglasses on all day. His hair was a mess.

“What time did you end up going to bed last night?” Kaz asked, the back of his hand draped over his rough-looking face as if he were the subject of a renaissance portrait. He was wearing the same jeans he’d worn last night, and his t-shirt was a tad sweaty. 

“What?” Snake grunted, twisting his body so that he could look at the other man. 

“When did you go to bed, Snake?”

“Oh. Didn’t you ask me this already? Like two hours ago?”

“Uh, I don’t think so. I don’t know. I feel so disoriented. I’m not used to going to bed at, eight, or something…”

“Kaz, you and Eva both went to bed around six. I don’t remember when I went to sleep… It was early, most likely.”

Kaz let out a dangerously guttural burp. “And Eva took Ocelot home?”

“I guess. I should probably call to see if he’s okay, huh?” Snake stared down at his crossed arms, frustrated once again by the unexplainable feeling of unease that had been creeping through his mind since he’d woken up. 

“What’s the big deal? He’s an adult. There’s no need to bother him.” Flippant. Snake didn’t like Kaz’s attitude; “enemies” or not, he was being much too insensitive. 

“What’s up with that, Kaz? You’re just gonna make assumptions about how he’s doing? What if something happened last night?”

“Snake, I’m sure Eva would have told you if something had seemed wrong. Stop worrying so much.” He sighed. “You really don’t remember what happened last night? Well, I guess I can’t blame you. Nothing happened, Snake, at least not before I went to bed. Don’t worry about it.” Kaz smiled and patted him on the back a few times. Snake was still not satisfied. 

“Huh. How much did I drink?”

“A  _ lot.  _ I was impressed. You didn’t start crumbling until the end of the meal, where you took off your shirt and threw it over there.” Kaz pointed to the garment strewn on the hardwood floor. That explained why he’d woken up shirtless. He vaguely remembered that moment, as well as Eva posing to throw an empty bottle of beer at him.

“Oh.” Snake rubbed his nose, and then his eyes. He not only realized that he was still wearing his eyepatch, but that it was practically glued to his face. He peeled it off, throwing it onto the coffee table. 

“So,” Kaz began. “When do you want to clean? I mean, how are you feeling?”

“Like a pile of shit, thanks for asking. We’ll clean tomorrow or something. What is it, Saturday?”

“It’s Friday, Snake. Black Friday.” Kaz gestured to the television.

“Whatever, they play those all Thanksgiving week now.” Snake snarled. He wasn’t particularly frustrated with Kaz. He just wished things didn’t feel as hectic as they did. He just wanted things to fall back into place. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Alright, but you should shower first. We both smell horrific. You might want to change your sheets, too.” Kaz stood, stretched. “Ah, whatever. Take a shower, I’ll change your sheets for you.” 

Snake gratefully took up the man’s offer. To be frank, Kaz was just too good at too many things. He appreciated having him around as a voice of reason, or simply so that he didn't end up dying randomly due to the stupidest of reasons. Kaz was the man of reason. Snake was the man of action.

Snake spent too much time brooding in the shower. It was a contradictory brooding, empty yet weighted, and by the time he'd turned the water back on to rinse, he felt as if he'd done nothing but further scramble his thoughts. He remembered cooking, yes, Kaz and Ocelot's argument, of course, but everything else seemed to have receded to the dankest alleys of his mind, hidden away never to be found. He hadn't been that wasted in years. He felt like a stupid kid. Whatever. He turned off the water and decided he’d skip shaving as he toweled off. He brushed his teeth a fourth time.

As Kaz had promised, the man had clean sheets and a large down comforter waiting for him when he returned to his room. His phone, most likely dead, sat untouched on his nightstand, alongside a packet of that fizzy, disgusting seltzer stuff and a glass of water. The man collapsed onto the bed, taking in the fresh scent. It wasn't cold enough for the comforter, but Snake still wrapped himself in it before checking his phone, which by some miracle still had 11% battery remaining. Turns out Ocelot had called. Hours ago. 

“Shit.” Unease welled in him with each second he waited for the phone to be picked up. Ocelot finally answered, sounding a bit somber. Snake felt like an idiot.

“Hey, Snake. How are you feeling? Getting a lot of sleep? Not to be presumptuous, but you seemed a lot worse than me.” Ocelot seemed a bit more serious than usual.

“I'm fine. Sort of. I’ve been vomiting all day, and I can't remember shit.” Although the vomiting had dissipated, Snake still had one hell of a headache despite having downed painkillers some time ago. “My head’s killing me, though.”

“Mine too. I threw up after I got off of Eva’s motorcycle, but I think that was motion sickness. My head was hurting, but I think I'm alright now.” A pause. “You don't remember  _ anything  _ that happened? Not a detail?”

Snake rolled onto his back. “I remember some stuff from before we started eating, I guess.”

“Ah. Uh, same for me... I guess. Oh well. I'm sure we had a great time. Oh, and uh, if you want me to come back over and help clean, I've got nothing to do the rest of the day.”

Snake pressed the phone between his cheek and shoulder, opening the seltzer packet and watching the water bubble up when he poured it in.“I was about to sleep, but feel free. I’m sure shared responsibility will help you and Kaz get closer than you already are.”

“Oh.” Snake could hear the eyeroll in his voice. “Is Miller alright?”

“Yeah, he's fine. He smelled like shit, but other than that, he's alright.” 

“Yeah, that’s good…  _ Anyway, _ I'll let you sleep. I think I'll stop by tonight. I'll bring over a pizza.”

“Sure. Uh, thanks.”

“Yeah. I'll see you later, big guy.” Ocelot hung up, and Snake reached over to plug his phone into the charger. 

It took him about an hour to fall asleep. He kept brooding, scrutinizing his own feelings, trying to figure out why he didn't want to see Ocelot tonight.

He really,  _ really  _ didn't want to see Ocelot.

\-- 

Snake woke up to find Kaz looming over him, his visage blurred with exhaustion, and the glaring light on his ceiling making his cover his eyes as if he were staring at the sun. 

“Snake.”

“What? What time is it?” Without waiting for Kaz to answer, he looked at the clock. 9:09. 

“Snake, Ocelot’s here. He brought pizza.”

Snake still couldn't quite understand what was going on. 

“What? Why's he here?” Snake recalled dreading the man’s presence.

“I thought you'd be able to tell me that.”

A moment later, a red glove knocked on the already open door. Ocelot stepped in, looking well-groomed. He held a very large pizza in his arms and still wore his coat. 

“As I recall, I said I'd come over and help Miller clean. I also said I'd bring a pizza. Then you said, ‘uhhh, sure’ and that was that.” Ocelot leaned against the door frame. “Where can I put this?”

“God, I don't sound like that.” Snake sighed, rubbing his good eye. “Put it on the coffee table, I guess.” 

Kaz murmured something about the kitchen and left the room, taking the pizza with him, and leaving Snake, Ocelot, and a pound of untraceable dread alone in Snake’s room. 

“Snake, you sure you're alright?” 

“What? Yeah. I feel alright.” He got up to dress in a t-shirt and a pair of his favorite workout shorts. “I think the nap did the trick. I'm just glad I don't have work until Monday.” 

“Good to hear.” Ocelot sniffed. “Want to go eat?”

“Yeah, I could eat a plate of cobras right now. What kind of pizza did you get?”

“Worm topping with mud sauce. Dirt crust.” Ocelot replied almost without hesitation. Snake gave him a baffled look. Had he really? Ocelot’s brow furrowed. “Uh, bacon and onion. If you don't mind.”

The smell of the pizza did a decent job of masking the smell of old food in the kitchen. Snake's head still ached dully, but he could deal with it. He and Ocelot didn't speak much as they ate. Their conversation was something a little above smalltalk, and at some point, Ocelot had begun to look just as uneasy as Snake felt. 

Kaz joined in the conversation whenever he left the kitchen to get pizza, but otherwise, he seemed uncomfortable and unusually quiet as well. He repeatedly checked his phone, and after cleaning up most of the mess on the dining table, he retired to his room without a word. Snake shrugged. He could clean. Kaz  _ had  _ changed his sheets earlier.

They left three slices for Eva, but finished the rest of the pizza otherwise. 

“I'll get started cleaning,” Ocelot said, standing and stretching hard enough for Snake to hear a crack or two. Snake stood as well, heading to his room to retrieve his eye patch, and when he returned, Ocelot was already washing dishes. The silence remained. Snake had nothing to say, nothing to inquire. He started putting food into containers and bags, storing them in the fridge. 

“Snake,” Ocelot said over the roar of the sink. “I tried to call my mom back today. To apologize for what I said yesterday. I'll be honest - I feel awful. I was frustrated and anxious. I shouldn’t’ve done that, but what can I do now but try and make up for it? It’s so difficult with her. If I screw up, I have no idea when I'll get to redeem myself.”

Was he monologuing, or did he expect Snake to give him advice? 

“What did you say to her?”

Ocelot shrugged. “I told her that she was selfish, and that she should’ve stayed behind or taken me with her. I told her to stop pretending that she didn't run away from  _ Batya _ ’s death. But I was wrong, Snake. And I knew it when I said those things, too. But I just let it out.” He held a particularly dirty cup up to the light. “I usually don't miss her like this, but there's finally enough going on in my life that I'd like to be able to share with her. I her to see me as I am now. I know she's proud of me. She has to be. She's my mother. But she hasn't had much reason to before now. But I finally feel like I'm  _ somewhere,  _ and I just want her to be able to sleep knowing that she has a reason to be proud of her son.”

Snake dumped the remaining dish of macaroni and cheese into a zip-shut gallon baggie and threw it into the freezer. 

“What does she do? Uh, for a living?” He asked simply, not knowing how to respond to the lament. 

“Hm. How do I say this…? She's a mercenary of sorts. Always out fighting; proxy wars, multinational conflicts, she's there. She's an amazing soldier. One of the best out there, in fact. But she's so good at what she does, I don't think she believes she has any other purpose.” He sighed. “She's getting older. I'm just worried about her.”

“Ah, so she's stubborn?”

“That's not it… she's not  _ stubborn  _ as she is  _ loyal. _ She's a woman of pledge, dedication, perseverance. She's unlike anyone you'll ever meet, which is probably why I feel so guilty. I'm the selfish one. I mean, look at me, John.” The man turned to face him, looking both angry and remorseful. The use of his name had startled Snake a little. “I'm a goddamned secretary. Ten years ago, I thought I'd be at the top. A government man, influencing the working of an entire nation. But it’s better than where I was a few years ago. And I want her to see it for herself”

Snake went to Ocelot's side and began helping him load dishes into the dishwasher. Ocelot continued:

“I've recently come to terms with how my life is now. I have work to do, and I get ahead of myself a bit too often, but lately I've been… realizing things. About circumstance.” He put his dish down, giving Snake a serious look. “Snake, last night, did-”

“Snake!” Came a voice from the front door. It was Eva. Both Snake and Ocelot turned to find the woman holding a box of items. She smiled when she saw them, and Snake thought he caught her winking at Ocelot. “You should’ve gone shopping today. The deals are  _ hot  _ this Black Friday.”

“Eva, I wasn’t in the mood.”

“I could've picked some stuff up for you. I woke up early. Anyway, check out the equipment I got.” She began placing her stuff onto any empty space she could find on the messy counter. She and Snake made eye contact then, making Eva stop in her tracks. “Oh, come on, Snake. You can work while I talk. I’m really excited about all of this.”

“Or, you could help us clean this mess that you contributed to, and leave your show-and-tell for later.” Snake huffed. He then looked around, trying to remember what he’d been doing before Eva’s arrival. He decided to start clearing off the dining table. “We left you some pizza, Eva. It’s on the coffee table.” 

Snake smiled at the glint in Eva’s eyes as she was presented with an excuse to put off having to clean. After replacing her equipment back into the box, she made her way into the living room. She fell onto the couch and lifted the lid of the box. She then looked at Snake.

“Only three pieces? Really?” Eva crossed her arms, a sincere pour fixed to her face. Snake couldn't help but smile.

“Yeah. We thought we could help you stick to your annual post-holiday diet.” Snake dumped more dishes next to where Ocelot was washing. Eva was eating, having ignored his comment. Ocelot was focused on his work, his face crossed with a distant look of concern. 

“Hey,” Snake put a hand on his shoulder. “Did you ask me something earlier?”

“Oh. I forgot. It's nothing.” Was his reply. Snake shrugged.

“Ocelot! You know you could've stayed here if you were just going to come back.” Eva called from the living room. “Could've saved me some gas money.”

“This wasn't well-planned.” Ocelot returned. “Plus, I don't think I'd be able to ever step foot into here again if I'd vomited in here instead of my bushes. Thanks for the ride, though.”

Eva laughed. “No problem. You seemed a little wobbly afterwards. First time on a bike?”

“Yeah. Although I don't remember most of it.”

“Don't feel bad, Ocelot.” Snake interjected. “She's a threat to mankind on that bike. She rides like a rabid animal.”

“I can handle a bike better than anybody else in this damn city. I take risks and I like to have fun. Not a single scratch on my bike, and not a single accident in my past.” Eva flipped Snake off before beginning her next slice of probably cold pizza. When she'd finally finished, she rolled up the sleeves of her red turtleneck, helping the two scrub the counter, stove, and table clean. They had everything done in a little over an hour. Eva had lit incense to relieve the stuffy kitchen of it’s lingering scent. It was late; yet another day had flown by. Another day closer to having to return to work. They decided to go out to smoke on the balcony. Ocelot excused himself and headed towards the bathroom.

Snake leaned against the bar of the balcony once again, this time looking to the left, spotting a glowing corner of urban lights out in the distance. It was quiet, chilly, and the sky was clear enough to see through time itself. Cigar smoked swirled on his tongue as he savored its distinct flavors. Eva sat against the glass of the sliding door, smoking a joint. Ocelot had been in the bathroom for over five minutes. Snake wondered if he was alright in there.

“John?” The woman asked softly. 

“What?”

“Remember when I stole your credit card in high school? I'm… really sorry.”

“Huh? Didn't you pay me back a few years ago?” 

“Yeah, but I never apologized. I could never bring myself to.” 

“You were going through a rough time with your parents. It was shitty, but I understood. Why're you bringing this up?”

“When I sit and think too much, I get guilty. I've done some really shitty things, John.”

The man smiled. “Haven't we all?” He looked down to find her smiling. 

“I got this weed free. I tricked a guy for it after my last gig. Want some?”

“Nah.” Snake put his cigar between his lips once again. “When's your next gig? I haven't seen you play in a while.”

Eva blew smoke from her lips. Snake still hated that smell. “Next week, I think. It's at that bar near the big hotel downtown. I can't remember the name.” She propped her head up with her hand, resting an elbow on her thigh. “You should bring Ocelot.” Snake’s brow furrowed, and he felt a bit embarrassed. 

“Why?” He said a little too firmly. Eva gave him a strange look.

“I want as big an audience as possible. Besides, I thought you two were together. Unless I'm mistaken, of course, and yesterday night was an accident or a mistake.” Snake was once again flooded with nervous thought. Why couldn't he remember anything that'd happened after the sun had set? What had happened? 

“What are you talking about?” Was all he could get out. Eva looked at him with disbelief. 

“You mean you don't remember all that? God, you're such a mess. I got up to pee and when I looked out, you two were practically rolling all over this balcony. Unless, of course, I'm mistaken, and it just so happens that you two were wrestling.”

“Rolling? What do you mean by that-” Snake’s mouth shut as soon as Ocelot slid open the patio door. He looked tired and a bit sick. 

“You were there a long time.” Eva observed with a tiny smile. “You alright there?”

“I’m fine.” Ocelot replied, his voice firm but tinged with self-doubt. Eva held out her joint.

“Want any?”

“No thanks.” Ocelot idled by the door a little awkwardly. Snake focused his attention on Eva, who seemed to be making a show of getting up and stretching, various parts of her body popping and cracking. 

“Anyway, she yawned. “I’m going to mess around with my new equipment and do some practicing. Don’t freeze out here.” She was in the door before either of them could even blink. Ocelot looked at Snake, and after a moment of hesitation, went to stand beside him. Snake looked at him, and then offered his cigar.

“Sure you don’t want to try it?” Ocelot chuckled with a smirk, taking the cigar from the man. 

“You people sure do love smoking, huh?” He then put the cigar to his lips, and after scrutinizing it for half a second, inhaled the smoke. He keeled over a second later, coughing uncontrollably, but attempting to hold it in, making him sound like some sort of choking animal. True, to a certain extent. Snake smiled, slapping him on the back. 

“You’re not supposed to inhale it. Keep it in your mouth.” He took the cigar from Ocelot’s trembling hands. “You could've asked me how to smoke beforehand.” The other man recovered from his fit, now making an effort to avoid eye contact. Snake could still see the tears that clung to his eyelashes. Ocelot shoved his hands deep into his pockets, hunching his shoulders.

“Why do you all like coming out here? It's fucking freezing.” He asked, his voice a bit weak.

“I can’t smoke indoors, can I?” Snake looked down at the glowing cigar between his fingers. “I like it out here. I feel alive when I'm outside.”

“Then why live here, Snake? Why not move out to the mountains? A small New England town?” Ocelot asked. “This isn't true outdoors. It's like a simulated outdoors. A few trees here and there and they make you feel like you're king of the rolling green hills.”

Snake thought about it. Of course he'd considered moving, but to where he didn't know. He didn't know a lot of people, and so leaving Eva and Kaz behind seemed unthinkable. 

“I don't know.” He sighed. “It's not that easy. Things don't always work out, so if you have something going for you, might as well stick to it.” Snake gave his cigar back to Ocelot, who was able to smoke it with little trouble.

“Hm. Well, I've thought about leaving my job to pursue a million other things. I might leave in a couple of years to see what the rest of the world has to offer. I don't think I ever want to settle down. It doesn't suit me.”

Snake looked at him, feeling something close to sadness. Ocelot was young. He figured he'd let him dream in peace.

“I see. Well, good luck with that.” Snake put out his cigar. “Let's go back inside.”

“... I think I should get going. I have some work stuff to deal with tomorrow.” Ocelot scratched his head. “It never truly ends, does it?” 

“I feel you on that.” Snake kicked off from the rail and slid the patio door open, letting Ocelot in before he stepped in and slid it shut. Deep down, Snake knew that they had a lot to discuss. But neither of them had brought it up on the balcony, so he decided that he'd just leave it for some other time, when he was feeling a bit less fatigued. Ocelot was pulling his gloves back on. Snake looked upon in wonder; when the hell had he cut his hair?

“Hey, Ocelot.” He hesitated, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “Thanks for the pizza.”

“It's nothing, Snake. Thanks for inviting me over and treating me like an old friend. It means a lot.” Ocelot pulled on his boots, which Snake found a bit ridiculous as a concept, but also observed that they suited the man well. 

“Yeah. No problem.” Snake waved as Ocelot went out the door. He realized he'd retreated back to square one. He could've asked a simple question. Do you remember? With a sigh, he knocked on the door to Eva’s studio. He received no reply, and took that as a queue to open the door himself. She was sitting at her keyboard, headphones in, swaying as she played an invisible tune. Her fingers danced along the white and black keys, and she didn't falter when she turned the page of her score. Snake felt almost bad interrupting her.

She jumped when he tapped her shoulder, and was visibly upset when she turned around.

“Sorry,” Snake murmured. “I just wanted to talk about something with you.” Eva put her headphones down onto her keyboard and turned around on her stool. Her anger seemingly subsided, and amusement took its place.

_“_ Don't tell me you let him leave, Snake.” 

“Yeah, he uh, left few minutes ago.” 

“God…” She sighed. “And I'm guessing you two didn't discuss shit, did you?”

“What's there to discuss? I don't know what happened, and he doesn't either, apparently.”

“Hm. Seems unlikely.” Eva crossed her arms, leaning back against the keyboard. “But if that’s what you believe, fine. Anyway, as I said earlier, you two were all over each other that night. You were pretty much spitting all over him. I'm surprised he didn't wake up covered in a layer of your dried spit. I mean-”

“Alright. Enough. Jesus Christ…” Snake breathed out of his nose. “Jesus Christ… I mean, we were drunk. That could have meant anything.” Eva rolled her eyes.

“Look, I may not have what you consider a real job or whatever, but I'm not stupid. You are so clearly into him. Or am I wrong? Because I think I’ll go into cardiac arrest if you disagree.”

“You're… uh, not wrong.” Snake was embarrassed, having to be lectured on his own feelings like this. “Then what do I do? He's gone, and I can't just go bothering him again.”

Eva shrugged. “I'd bother him again if I were you. The more you put it off, the worse everything will get. Trust me.” Pause. “So he told you he didn't remember shit?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don't remember either?”

“I remember parts of the morning and afternoon, but that's it.”

“He lied, then. I saw how much he drank. He's a heavyweight, too, I could tell. He was  _ not  _ as drunk as you. I know he remembers. Bring it up with him.”

“How do you know he's lying? Seems like a leap if you ask me.”

“Probability. I mean c’mon, Snake.”

“Huh.” Snake scratched a cheek. “Before you came in, I think he asked me something about last night. Yeah.”

Eva sighed and put her headphones back on before turning back towards the keyboard. She sat up straight and cracked her knuckles. “You know what to do.” Without another word, she began playing again, although all Snake could hear was the click of her pressing down keys. 

He knew she'd be upset if he didn't resolve this quickly, but Snake didn't want to call Ocelot. It seemed obsessive. He needed to think.

He'd slept so long that he didn't feel the least bit tired. He felt as if he'd gotten halfway to a milestone. Sure, he didn't know if Ocelot would ever deliberately contact him again, but at least he knew that there was some sort of mutual attraction. Snake could finally track the source of the strange emotions he'd been feeling in the past week. He'd been anxious because he liked Ocelot; a part of him that was buried deep down in his subconscious had known that, but it seemed Eva had finally brought it to light.o

What would he do now? Snake went into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. It was nearly one in the morning. He had to get his sleep schedule back together before work began. Before he ate, Snake downed some drowsy medication, just in case he found trouble trying to sleep with a stomach full of peanut butter and banana sandwich and thoughts of Thanksgiving night. 

He barely made it to bed before he passed out, still in his clothing.   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me like 1 million years to realize, but the chapters have been short because i've focused each chapter on one POV. i'm considering adding in-chapter POV to increase chapter length. let me know what you think! (bls...... don't be afraid to leave me a comment :-0 )  
> also this chapter, for the most part, was unn-beta'd, so i apologize for any glaring errors!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ocelot goes for a jog, heeds Eva's advice, and tips his waitress a proper amount like a good citizen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ocelot's just leaping and bounding away i suppose.....

Ocelot had never felt this much unresolved tension in his entire life. It didn’t bother him that he had _lied_ to Snake as much as the thought that his lie had been found out. And he would have confessed, too, if it weren’t for Eva. Timing could be such a horrific thing; and because of that, he hadn’t asked Snake if their - _impassioned encounter_ had meant anything. Ocelot couldn’t get if off his mind. The feel of Snake’s calloused hands, the warmth of his bare chest, the faint smell of cologne buried under the chaotic aroma of too many savory dishes. He’d loved every moment of it. He’d been stunned when it had happened, but as time passed, Ocelot got to thinking that he’d seen it all coming. It was as if he’d poured out a bowl of cereal only to find a missing puzzle piece mixed in with his multicolored loops of oats. But at this rate it wouldn’t happen again. Snake knew nothing of it. It might as well have been a dream. Ocelot touched his lips with rubber-gloved fingers. He’d been cleaning his antique guns for the past hour, and had ordered a new one online on impulse. The price he’d paid was high, but the piece was such a work of art that he’d tucked his regret into a faraway place. He’d make the money back eventually. He told himself that with each large purchase.

He’d called his mom ten times and left her ten different messages. Apologies. Clarifications. Passive-aggressive threats. More apologies. He desperately wanted to see her. He needed her. He was lost and confused and needed guidance, old as he was. It was pathetic, frankly. He always got emotional around the holidays, but as the last few years had slipped by and Ocelot’s youth left him gradually, regret and sadness seemed to hit him harder. Part of him wished she’d never speak to him again as punishment. Ocelot put down the gun he’d been staring at blankly, took off his gloves, and crawled under the covers. Why had he said the things that he’d said to her? He closed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair. Why had he cut his hair, too? It had been approaching such a good length.

He’d wanted to impress Snake, but everything had turned out to be a bust in the end. It wasn’t that he wasn’t okay with being alone. He was used to it, and frankly, it felt comfortable for him. They’d been so _close._ They’d touched, they’d kissed as if in a dream. He wondered if Snake would call him again. He wondered if he’d see him again. He could text him. Say thank you (so much) for the food (and the sloppy, drunk, and kind of gross in retrospect kisses), but he didn't want to seem obsessive. They'd been seeing a lot of each other, and as much as Ocelot didn't give a shit about being regarded as a nuisance, he was sure Snake had seen enough of him in the past couple of weeks. He wanted to call him, terribly. And he knew he could - it was Saturday. He knew the man wouldn't be busy. Ocelot actually found himself itching to go back to work. Not having anything to do for such a seemingly long period of time felt strange. He figured he'd make some calls later in the day.

Calls. He could do it. Snake worked out. He could invite him to go for a jog. That pizza had left Ocelot feeling sick, and he knew he'd been letting his gym membership go to waste longer than he'd intended.

Ocelot crawled back out of bed and finally placed his antique weapons back in the drawer, locking it and throwing the key onto his dresser. He sank into his office chair and threw open his laptop, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface of his desk as the thing whirred to life. He opened up his browser, and after a moment of hard thought, typed “eva local guitarist” into the search bar. He found what he believed was her website, which was, unfortunately, poorly designed - Ocelot made a mental note to talk to her about getting an intern to touch it up. It was a funny site, in fact. Poor choice of font and colors, and pictures of Eva and her instruments that was just a tad too seductive to take seriously. Somehow it suited her. He found a number under a tab labeled “Contact” and entered it into his phone. She picked up quickly, quickly enough, in fact, for Ocelot to realize that he had no idea why he was calling. He'd talked to Eva for quite some time on Thursday, but that didn't necessarily make them friends. The man leaned back, willing himself to relax.

“Booking, this is Eva, how can I help you today?” Came a clear, relatively uncharacteristic voice. The customer service voice.

“Eva? It's Ocelot.” The woman sighed on the other line.

“This is my work number. I thought I'd gotten a job there for a moment. What are you calling me for? Snake's home.” Ocelot heard the sound of silverware being dropped into a bowl. “Did you guys talk last night? I told him to call you.”

“Call? No, we didn't talk. Why?”

“Ah, that fucking idiot.” She sighed. “Look, Ocelot, I know what you want to talk about.

“How could you _possibly-_ ”

“Look. He doesn't remember, but I know that you do. I think you two should talk about it. He likes you, man. Sorry if you were planning a big reveal or something, but I'm not like that. You two have been beating a mile around the bush for the past twenty-four hours.”

Ocelot covered his eyes with his hand. She knew. How did she know?

“How did you know what happened? Hold on, what happened exactly?”

“You two made out. Look, I think you guys are making this into a bigger deal than it should be. Just talk to him. I can put him on the phone right now, he’s in his apartment snoring like a bear on the couch.”

“Wait.” Ocelot said a little too loudly. “Don't put him on. I called to talk to you. I opened the internet just to find your website, which could use some work, by the way. There’s an intern at my job, Paz, who’s good with that sort of thing.”

“Hey, my website is fine, I didn’t ask for a critique. And don't change the subject. Tell me what's on your mind, Ocelot.”

“I don't know. I guess I assumed you'd tell me what to do.”

“Okay, here's what _I'm_ going to do. I'm going to wake Snake up, because he's been sleeping way too much lately. He's going to drive, bike, jog, _whatever_ to your place, and you’re going to say ‘wow, Snake, thanks _so_ much for making out with me on the balcony under the stars on a crisp autumn night’, and that'll be that. It’ll easy, babe. Or do you need me to come over and hold your hand?”

Ocelot frowned. “No. Don't.”

“Hold your hand?”

“No, _don’t_ send him over. Let him rest.”

“He doesn't need to rest, Ocelot. I'm going to wake him up. You two have absolutely nothing to lose. God, you're stubborn, too. Have you not dated anyone recently?”

Ocelot’s frown deepened. Was it really her business? “No, I haven't. Not since college.”

“That explains a lot, I suppose. Look, I'll text you my cellphone number. And again, you have nothing to lose. I'm just trying to help. I'll talk to you later.” She hung up on him, leaving the man to sit with his mouth open, feeling stupid and shocked. The text came a moment later, followed by a wink emoji. Ocelot texted back.

_Don't send him over. I mean it._

She sent back:

_-He’s up! He lives!_

_I'm sick. I have the flu._

_-:P :P :P_

Ocelot hurled his phone at his pillow and put his head down on the desk. He could leave. He could head out to the store, treat himself to dinner and not return until night. But that would make him a coward.

It really wasn't a big deal. He knew Snake. They could talk. Ocelot had exposed how he felt about his mother to the man a mere few hours ago, which Ocelot considered deeply personal. Why couldn't they talk about feelings? It sounded so bad when he said it like that. Feelings.

He thought about what Eva said. Snake liked him. It was an amazing thought and the best news he'd gotten in awhile, so why didn't he feel good? He needed some fresh air.

Ocelot removed his pajama pants (the night had been particularly cold), putting on a pair of black joggers, a t-shirt, and a red windbreaker that, admittedly, he’d stolen from his college roommate years ago. It was much too big on him. He looked six years younger in the mirror. His mustache was making little progress. He put on his hood, grabbing his cell phone and a pair of headphones that were probably broken. He liked listening to podcasts and news when he ran. He put on an interview with a military scientist regarding technological innovation and ran out the door. Today it was cold out, and he wished he’d put on a hat. Christmas was coming. It was an annoying thought; another opportunity to give his paycheck right back to the system.

Ocelot decided to keep his run within the bounds of his townhouse complex. He waved at neighbors, observed the half-naked trees and the browning leaves at their bases. Snake was coming. It wasn’t a big deal. AI-controlled cars were slowly being introduced into society. That was cool. Ocelot wanted to kiss Snake again. He picked up his pace, his jog breaking into a run. The wind whistled in his ears, and his headphones were close to falling out. The more he thought about Snake. The faster he ran. Before he knew it, he was sprinting. He made a loop at a cul-de-sac, slowing him down a bit. He ran around the complex fountain six times.

He came to a stop eventually, his lungs burning, sweat beading down his back, neck, and forehead. His head felt clear, and a great deal of his anxiety had dissipated. He could face anything. He’d be ready. Ocelot sat on a curb, catching his breath. His phone began to buzz. He removed his glove with shaky fingers and swiped to answer.  
  
“Adam speaking,” he breathed, trying his best to sound as if he hadn’t just sprinted half a mile.

“Hey, it’s Snake. I’m outside.” Ocelot got his feet.

“Hey. It just so happens that I am, too. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.” He hung up, took a deep breath, and jogged in the direction of his unit. He saw Snake’s Jeep parked in a nearby guest lot and suddenly got the urge to turn back around. This was really happening. Snake was right around the corner. He slowed his jog to a fast-paced walk.

He saw Snake in front of his door, hands in the pockets of a black jacket.

“Snake!” Ocelot called out. He jogged up the pathway to his door. “Kept you waiting, huh?”

“Nah.” Snake crossed his arms. “Nice coat.”

“Thanks. I stole it.” Ocelot dug his keys from out of his pocket. “Let’s go inside.”

"Wait. Why don’t we walk?” Snake reached out but swiftly returned his hand to his pocket.

Ocelot noticed was that he was taller than Snake. He seemed so small, standing there in front of him, his hard face looking down and to the side, shoulders hunched, his good eye unusually dull.

“That sounds good. There’s a pub a couple of miles up the road. We can get lunch.” Ocelot made his way back down his pathway, Snake following suit. The wind whipped at his clothing and chilled his ears. The hat - he’d forgotten to retrieve it from the house. He didn’t feel like turning back. Snake walked at his side with the eyepatch side of his face to Ocelot’s left. The subtlety of the move made him smirk.  

“Eva told me you were expecting me to come over.” Snake said, his voice only a bit louder than the wind.

“She… kind of made me do this. Not that I’m opposed or anything, it's just that I didn't want to bother you again. I went over yesterday and the day before.” Ocelot turned to look at Snake.

“It's fine.” He paused. “I don’t mind. You’re…” Snake muttered something. “Yeah.”

 _What a conversationalist..._ The roar of the wind clashed with the rush of passing cars as they walked on the sidewalk next to the main road. Snake raised his voice to something below a shout.

“Ocelot. We need to talk.” His brown hair whipped to the side as a truck passed close to them. He stopped walking. He looked cold. Or exposed.

“I agree, Snake.” Ocelot turned to face him. The face that Snake looked so nervous was… comforting to him. He felt like he could finally say what had been on his mind. “Look, I've had a lot of time to think, and Eva told me to be forward with you.” A deep breath. “Snake, I'm interested in you. I like you, and I want to see where this is going.” Ocelot let out the least relieved sigh of all time. He could feel his ears burning, as well as the blood swirling through his vessels. Suddenly it didn’t seem so cold and windy. “Do you feel the same way?”

Snake scratched his beard and shifted uncomfortably. Ocelot felt ill. Eva wouldn’t mislead him like this, would he?

“... I uh…” Snake didn’t look him in the face. Ocelot frowned.

“Snake, if I grabbed your shoulders and kissed you right now, would you object?” Ocelot took the man’s shoulders in his hands. He was shaking. “Or would you let me do it?” He said in Russian. The adrenaline pumping through his system muted the sounds of his surroundings, forcing him to hyperfocus on Snake, who looked surprised if anything. Was he making a bad decision? Five years seemed to pass by. Ten years. One thousand years.

“I wouldn’t...” He finally murmured. Ocelot’s body flooded with a momentary euphoric warmth, the feeling shooting to the top of his head and making him dizzy. Hands quaking, his slid his gloved palms up to cup the man’s cheeks. He leaned forward, eyes fluttering shut, pressing his lips against Snake’s, feeling their texture, shape, and finding it all familiar. He liked that. Snake was his. He let go of the man, a smile spreading across his face. Snake looked surprised, but began to smile after a moment had passed.

“I’d do that again, but I wouldn’t want to cause a car accident.” Ocelot turned, nodding towards the passing traffic. Snake nodded in agreement. Ocelot heaved another sigh. The world around him came to life again. The wind whipped against his face. “That felt good.”

“Yeah.” Snake’s eye once again a vortex of blue. He was looking down. His eyelashes were long. Ocelot took the man’s shoulders again, pressing a kiss near the outer corner of his eye.

''Let's go. I've been thinking about having a beer for a good half hour now.”

Snake spent the next few minutes texting in that comically slow way of his. Trying to walk at the same time did not help, although Ocelot didn't mind. He felt uplifted, as if he had just successfully conquered an empire. Eva had been right. Snake was into him, and either way, he'd really had nothing to lose. He felt stupid for not doing this much earlier.

He could thank her. But it _had_ been him who'd decided to kiss Snake, which was definitely ballsier than simply confessing. He mentally patted himself on the back for that. Ocelot took his phone out too, and saw that he had three new texts. It was Eva, of course.

 _Interesting. I thought u had the flu :(_  
_I can't believe yr going to a pub like that!!!! You're a trooper ! ;-0_  
 _Dang….. guess you gave john the flu too……. yr a menace… but a romantic one_

 Ocelot rolled his eyes.

  _-I used healing crystals to both cure my illness and seduce snake. Bye I was going to bring you a burger but I guess you're not interested._

  _A burger? For me? Wow, yr willing to spend $11 on me? Lil ol Eva?_

  _-Not anymore_

 Ocelot slid his phone back into his pocket.

 “Snake, how much did you tell her?” He frowned at Snake, who wasn’t fazed by Ocelot’s accusation.

 “Well, seeing as she pretty much set this whole thing up, everything.”

“Hm.” Ocelot grunted. “Fair enough.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes. It was cold, despite the sun now peeking from beneath the clouds. It should have felt divine, but he just felt as if he were being lied to.

“So,” Snake began after a while. “You really didn't forget Thanksgiving night, did you?”

Ocelot felt his heart leap. “... Of course I didn't. I guess I didn't want anything to be strange for you. Fair enough?”

“You were embarrassed?”

“I guess you could say that.” Ocelot scratched his growing mustache. “I said it before I could think about it, so I guess the embarrassment was subconscious. Can't believe you didn't remember shit, though.”  
  
“Yeah, I was hammered. I still feel lost.” Snake seemed to think for a moment. “Give me a recap of the night.” Snake was finally looking right at him, genuine curiosity sparking in that eye of his.

“I’ll tell you what happened after we finished cooking.” Ocelot recapped the night to the best of his ability as they made their way to the pub. He thought about adding his own little details to manipulate the story, but in the event that Snake’s memories decided to crawl back into that head of his on some sunny evening in July, Ocelot kept the retelling as honest as he could. Snake seemed intrigued during the entire walk. When they arrived at the pub, the sun was shining, turning the world around them a much-needed golden glow. The pub smelled as inviting as a pub could smell, and was nearly packed despite it being early in the afternoon.

They sat themselves at a table that was a little too close to the bathrooms. People were crowded around the bar. Sports played on various flatscreens. The floor was littered with popcorn.

“Not the most charming or quaint place in the world, but it's worth the journey _á pied_.” Ocelot sank into his chair, looking and feeling content.

A woman come over and dropped two menus on their table. She asked them if they needed a few minutes to look it over, and Ocelot nodded as Snake scrutinized the menu with his single eye. After she left, he flipped up his eyepatch.

“You already know what you want?” He grunted, flipping to the next section. “Don't know if I should get a beer I'm used to or try something new.”

Ocelot leaned back. “Why not try something new?”

“And if I don't like it?”

“It's your money. Make yourself like it.” Ocelot pulled off his gloves and unzipped his coat. “Don’t look at me like that. Just ask for something else.”

“Alright then.” Snake put his menu down. “I know what I want.” He looked around, most likely to see if there was anyone around who could serve them. Ocelot did the same. The woman who had given them the menus was nowhere to be seen. He was hungry, but the place was crowded. Ocelot didn't know what to talk about. He didn't quite want to talk about his mother again, nor did he think Snake find a conversation regarding the progression of AI technology and the automotive industry particularly fascinating. Ah. Work was always interesting. The man was a part-time firefighter. He had to have stories.

“Snake, tell me about firefighting.” He flipped his eyepatch back down and crossed his arms. “I'm sure some crazy stuff has happened in the job.”

Snake chuckled. “Crazier than an oven bursting into flames? I dunno…” He looked up in thought. “I mean, I won't go into the serious ones too much, but you know that huge high school fire last year? The arson?”

“Yeah. Awful stuff. I heard they ran lighter fluid through the halls.”

Snake nodded. “It was horrible. The walls of the school are flame retardant for the most part, but there’s plenty more in those buildings that are susceptible to flame. I mean, it’s a school. It was late, but there were still a couple of teachers staying behind for work and some kids there for sports. Plus the janitors. Anyway, yeah, we were called for that.”

Ocelot whistled. “How bad was it? I could see the fire from my place. Sorta. The sky was blood red that night.” Ocelot frowned. It was a sad thought.

“The outside of the school wasn’t damaged much, but the inside? Fuck, it was like a war had gone down in there. Anyway, so we thought the building had been evacuated, but it turns out there was a teacher that was trapped in her classroom with a student she’d been talking to.”

“That late?” Ocelot remembered high school. He’d taken every opportunity to get home as early as possible. Being at school at night was always strangely depressing.  
  
“Yeah. The girl had home troubles and would wait for her mom to pick her up every day, so the teacher would stay with her to help her with work. But yeah, they got trapped inside the room, so it was me who had to go in and get them. Well, me and some guy from another district. They were on the third floor of the building, and the fire had reached their door. I took the door down with an axe, and the other guy got the woman out, but the younger girl started having a panic attack.”

“Holy shit.” Ocelot leaned forward, intrigued.

“Yeah. This may seem all heroic or something, but I was scared. My partner was already out the door and I didn’t know what to do to calm this girl down. I decided to give her my gas mask. Getting out was another thing. She still wouldn’t calm down, and since I was carrying her I couldn’t quite crouch, and there was smoke everywhere. Those kids had started the fire on the third floor, so it was bad up there. On the way to the stairwell, I almost passed out. I almost dropped her down the stairs, but I guess I was so… energized… or focused, something like that, that I was able to carry her out. It was agony, and there were several moments where I questioned if I really was willing to sacrifice my own life for another’s sake.”

“Hm. I imagine as you did this more often you got more comfortable with the idea, huh?”

“I guess. It’s different when you’re actually in danger. I’ve only had to do that twice, but when you’re actually in a situation where you could die… It makes you think. A lot.” Snake regarded him seriously. “Sorry, I’m not much of a storyteller.”

“No, no it’s all good. I certainly don’t have any stories like that.”

Snake shook his head. “Everyone’s got stories, though. You went to college.”

“College wasn’t that special for me. I was a bit of a party boy, I won’t lie. And I can’t say I wasn’t unpopular, either.” Ocelot smiled. He had a few fond memories of college. “I was one of those idiots who’d get into a lot of drunk fist fights. I had a good fighting reputation; I almost always won. Until one guy showed up. Guess he was some sort of jacked athlete. I seriously didn’t want to get my ass beat, so I kept trying to get up and swing whenever he took me down, but I think I gave up when he had me dangling off the edge of the stairwell. I guess I know what you mean about the whole death thing. I remember thinking that that could’ve been the last minute of my life, and I kinda thought to myself, _over a fucking useless little fight?_ That wasn’t the last fight I got into, no. Actually, after he pulled me from over the stairwell and we went back to the party, I broke a bottle so I could get him with it. I was dragged back to my room and my roommate guarded the door so I couldn’t leave again that night.”

“And if no one had done anything, you would’ve killed him?” Snake’s eye shone with an odd curiosity. Ocelot sat back and really thought. Would he have killed him? What had he been planning to do with that bottle?

“I don’t know, really. It was impulsive, and I was pretty angry and too drunk to make rational decisions. I’m sure I only meant to warn him to keep away from me, but… hm… knowing how I used to be back then.” Ocelot’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I try not to think about that night too much. Anyway, that was ten years ago. I’m here, and I’ve never killed a guy, so let’s celebrate.”

As if on cue, he spotted their waitress showed up again, apologizing for not being there to serve them sooner and thanking them for not leaving. Ocelot forgave the poor woman, and they ordered and paid for their meals. She brought back their drinks almost immediately. Ocelot had gotten a cider, which tasted better than it usually did. He wasn’t sure what Snake had gotten, and he certainly couldn’t tell whether Snake was enjoying it. The man seemed to notice him looking.

“Wanna try?” He slid his glass over to Ocelot, who pushed his own glass towards Snake as well. He tried Snake’s beer, which was smooth but _very_ bitter. Ocelot frowned.

“You like this?” He cleared his throat. Snake nodded, taking a sip of the cider.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good. Yours is a little too… I don’t know. It tastes like an apple.”

“It's supposed to taste like an apple, Snake.”

“And that's the problem. It's like apple juice.”

“What? It's not even sweet. Yours is bitter as all hell.”

Snake blinked. “Is it?” He grabbed his beer back and took another drink. “It's a little bitter, but I like it.”

“Shit, that's impressive.” Ocelot took a sip of his cider and leaned back, observing. “It's really busy, even for a holiday.” Another sip. “But why don't we talk something serious. Snake, should I grow my hair out again, or keep my hair short?”

“What? It's your hair, you do what you want with it. Why’d you cut it in the first place?”

“I didn’t know why I'd done it initially, but I realize now I did it to impress you.” Ocelot smiled. “Were you impressed?”

“I mean, I think it looks good. But I guess it always does. Huh, I don’t know.”

Ocelot grinned, leaning forward. “So you think I look good either way? You think I always look good, huh?”

Snake just took a deep drink and turned to look at the busy bar. Ocelot rolled his eyes.

“So, I guess we can call this our first date.” Ocelot watched closely as Snake turned in his seat, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “I mean it only makes sense.”

“And why do you say that?” The smirk. Ocelot’s grin grew.

“I kissed you in public only about an hour ago. Did you already forget? You were so cute.” Ocelot cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t,” he grunted in a low voice.

“I don’t sound like that…” Snake grumbled. Ocelot took out his phone.

“C’mon let’s see that smile.” Snake only grinned as Ocelot took several photos, with and without the shitty smartphone flash. As he tucked his phone away, Snake apparently not concerned as to whether the photos looked good, the waitress brought out their food. Ocelot had gotten a regular burger and fries, while Snake had ordered some chicken sandwich thing with his fries.  

“So, uh,” Snake began, his mouth very much full. “Heard from your mom since the other night?”

Ocelot put his sandwich down, worry slowly seeping into his upheaved mood.

“No. I’ve been trying to… keep my mind off of it, but it’s hard. I can usually go a long time without talking to her, but this time, it’s not so easy.” Ocelot sighed. “I’ve been telling her about you, you know. Kaz, of course, and Eva, too, but you especially. I think she’d like you. I wish she could meet you.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Snake reassured him. “Her job sounds like it requires a lot. She probably just can’t get back to you.”

“Hopefully that’s the case. The guilt is killing me. God…”

“Don’t worry about it. She isn’t going to disown you for saying what you did. You were a teenager once. I’m sure you’ve said worse things with no meaning whatsoever.” Snake reached over to pat him on the shoulder. “Drink your cider, Adam.”

Ocelot did so gratefully. He really was stressing himself out on the longest vacation he’d have that year. He bit into his burger, but it had a lot less flavor than when it’d first arrived at the table. He watched in awe as Snake tore into his sandwich and washed it down with fries. He’d finished his beer.

“So, what do you think of the food?” Ocelot asked with a hint of sarcasm. The man had finished most of his plate.

“It’s good. We should come here more often. Kaz would love this place.” Snake wiped his face with his sleeve, looking satisfied. Ocelot smiled. He wanted to hold him, and now that he technically _could,_ he buzzed with an eagerness to get home. Ocelot was in the mood for a good documentary.

“You’re not hungry?” Snake asked, eyeing Ocelot’s plate with a very concentrated intensity.

“Not really.” Ocelot looked at him warily. “Why?”

“I was uhh… going to finish your food for you. You know, so you wouldn’t have to carry it all the way back to your place.”

“Nice try, but I’m definitely taking it back with me. If you haven’t forgotten, my oven won’t be installed until Monday.”

“The leftovers aren’t enough for you?”

“Snake, I paid almost twenty dollars for this meal.” He finished off his cider and took out his wallet to leave a tip. “No way in hell I’m letting you finish it off.” Snake shrugged and threw a few singles onto the table. After Ocelot had packed his meal into a take-out container, the two headed out, bracing themselves for the cold. The brightness of the outside shocked them; the pub had been dim, and Ocelot had lost track of time in there. They hadn’t been there an exceptionally long time, but he’d expected it to be dark out when they emerged. The wind smacked him in the face once again, and for a moment he wished he’d driven.

“Snake, you busy tonight?” Ocelot turned to the man as they trekked through the parking lot. “Stay at my place for a while. I’ve got -” Ocelot’s phone buzzed in his pocket, nearly making him jump. “Sorry, someone’s calling.” He pulled his glove off and swiped to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Adamska?” It was his mom. He suddenly flushed with both joy and embarrassment. He untangled his headphones in a frenzy, plugging them into his phone and cramming them into his ears. It was hard to hear her over the wind.

“ _Mamulya?_ I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

“Adam, don’t worry. I’m fine. I just finished something major. I’m in a safe place. I’ve got hot showers and plenty to eat. Don’t worry about me.”

“Thank God…” Ocelot sighed. The anxiety slowly drained from his chest. “Look, about the other day - and this morning, I was stressed out. I didn’t mean to say all of that, I promise.”

“Adam, Adam. Calm down. It’s okay.” She laughed softly. “It's okay.” She sighed. “You actually made me start to think about a lot of things, and I've decided to take a little vacation from work. I've done a lot in the last couple of years, and I think I'm long overdue for a physical and mental break. What do you think, kitten?”

“What? Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes, completely. Why would I joke about this? I'll be back around Christmas, I promise.”

“Do you have somewhere to stay? There isn't that much space in the unit, but I have an air bed.”

“I might just find a hotel to stay in for a few weeks. I'd love to stay with you but… I've met someone.”

Ocelot nearly tripped. _“You?_ Finally… Are you thinking about finally settling down? Retiring? Getting a dog?”

“No, not quite. My… girlfriend is actually quite involved in what I do, so...” A moment passed. “And yes, Adam, she’s a woman.” Another pause. “I hope you're not too shocked.”

“No, I…” As much as he would like to hide it, he was very much surprised. “It's all good, _Mamulya._ I promise.” He swallowed. “I think I might’ve found someone, too. But I'll talk about that when you get here.”

“Hm. And here I was, thinking that you'd never start seeing people.” He could hear the smile in her voice. If he closed his eyes he could probably see her right in front of him. He let out a brief, breathy laugh.

“So your hopes for me were that low?”

“Well, they _were._ But you're not a very subtle person, Adam. Now tell me, is it that John guy you keep telling me about?” Ocelot's blood went cold. He said nothing. “Ah, so I was right.”

“You caught me...” Ocelot glanced at Snake. He was very much listening to the him speak. “But mama, I’ll call back tonight if I can. You'll be available, right?”

“Until the New Year. I love you, kitten. I'll talk to you later.” She hung up. Ocelot buzzed with a profound joy he had never felt in a very long time. Snake was looking right at him.

“Your mom?” He asked expectantly. Ocelot gave a slow nod.

“Yeah. She's coming back for Christmas. She has a girlfriend now, so she doesn’t want to stay with me, but I’d prefer it if she did.”

“A girlfriend?”

“Yeah… I'm happy for her, but she's still not going to settle down. I think she feels obligated to do what she does. Like she'd be letting the world down or sacrificing others by not… Hell, I'm not going to psychoanalyze my mom in front of you again. Sorry. You'll meet her. She’ll like you.” Ocelot looked at Snake. “For some reason, I see part of her in you. I get the feeling that you two are very similar.”

“How so, exactly?” Snake looked a little perplexed.

“I don't know.” Ocelot’s brow furrowed in thought. “It's just a feeling.”

\--

Ocelot was hyper self-aware now that he was almost entirely focused on impressing Snake. As they sat on the couch, the TV playing some countdown of the wackiest clips of various things gone wrong, most of which were depressingly life-threatening, Ocelot’s mind replayed a single, horrid thought until he could no longer bear it: he was boring. His house was boring. His job was boring and _God_ he hoped Snake didn't want to leave soon.

Ocelot didn't go online enough in his free time to show him funny internet videos, and he doubted Snake wanted to see the antique gun collection again. They couldn't cook or bake, as the oven was gone, and admittedly, Ocelot had about fifty television channels. They'd already gone out, and they'd already talked plenty. Snake didn't seem to want to talk much; what they'd been engaging in for the past hour was just a step above small-talk.

He thought. He _could_ get closer to Snake. He _could_ talk about feelings. But Snake didn't seem like the type to talk about how he felt, so Ocelot decided to be the bold man he was and move so that he was right next to Snake. The man didn't look at him. It was a bit awkward. Ocelot smirked and leaned against Snake. It was quiet enough to hear him breathe, and Ocelot definitely did _not_ miss Snake’s sharp inhale.

“Snake,” he almost purred. “Do you know how ecstatic I was after we started talking? You were so interesting. I talked about you a lot when I spoke to my mom. She knew how I felt about you even before I did, I think.” He swallowed. “I want to kiss you again.”

“What's stopping you?” Snake replied, a bit of humor streaked in his voice. Ocelot closed his eyes before he picked himself up, planting a wet kiss on Snake's scratchy cheek. He brought his right hand up to turn Snake's face towards his, and pressing their lips together. He kissed him, pulled away, kissed and pulled away until slowly, and with uncertainty, Snake parted his lips. Snake brought his legs up onto the couch to be comfortable; Ocelot moved with him as he lowered his head onto the pillow against the arm of the couch. Ocelot loomed over him on his hands and knees, bending slightly to kiss him once again.

It was no surprise when the inside of Snake’s mouth tasted a bit bitter. There was an area just on the inside of Snake’s lip that tasted metallic; he’d definitely chewed on his lip a lot. Ocelot felt special for knowing this. His bare thumb stroked one of Snake’s cheeks in gentles circles while the other hand gripped his scalp, not wanting to let go. Snake brought his hands up to grip Ocelot’s hips.

Ocelot licked his own lips before moving to press a kiss against Snake’s nose, then his eyepatch, followed by the part of his neck just below the ear. He remained in the last place for a while, breathing in Snake’s scent, listening to the sound of his breath coming and going, as well as the faint sound of what could have been either of their heartbeats. Snake pushed him away gently with an aggravated grunt.

“Ocelot… it's, uh, I'm ticklish there.” He seemed embarrassed.

“That so? Hypersensitive to pain, too?” Ocelot pinched the skin, making Snake smack his hand away. “I'm just messing with you.”

“I can tell.” Snake’s eye flicked to the TV. “This show’s depressing. I’m changing the channel.”

Ocelot lowered himself onto Snake, laying with his head on the man’s chest. He reached to pick the remote up from off the floor and handed it to Snake. As the man flipped through the channels, clearly not satisfied with what they had to offer, Ocelot listened to the him breathe, felt the rise and fall of his chest.

“Snake,” he sighed. “Has it even been two weeks since you came in here to extinguish the oven?”

“I can't remember. Probably not.” Snake rested his free arm on Ocelot’s back. “It's nice that you're warm, but you're fucking heavy.”

“Is it unbearable? Are you being crushed, big guy?” Ocelot closed his eyes.

“Hm. I guess not.” Came Snake’s reply.

“Then I'll stay here for a while.”

Snake finally settled for a 90s cartoon, which Ocelot found simultaneously nostalgic and uninteresting. He didn't realize he'd been drifting off until he was shocked back into full consciousness by a deep rumble of thunder. No, not thunder. Snake was snoring, his mouth hanging open, his monstrous snores practically ricocheting off of the unit’s walls and high ceiling.

“Dear God,” Ocelot whispered to himself. Snake sounded like a bear in a cave. He sounded like a lion in the Roman Colosseum. Like a thunderstorm in Red Rock Canyon. Ocelot made another attempt to close his eyes and lose himself in the warmth of another human being, but it just wouldn't work. He lifted his body from Snake’s in a way he hoped would least disturb his sleep and rolled off of the couch, landing on his knees. He pulled out his phone and made his way upstairs. He dialed Eva’s cell phone number while digging through his closet for a blanket that had been washed in the past five years. She picked up after about ten seconds of ringing.

“Eva. It's Ocelot. We need to talk.” Ocelot said firmly. The woman took a moment before answering.

“Everything alright? I haven't heard from Snake in a few hours. Kaz and I were wondering how he was doing.”

“He’s fine. He's sleeping on the couch.”

“Hmm. _Interesting_.” Ocelot rolled his eyes.

“Do _not._ This is serious. His snoring is… I don't know. It's hell. It's a goddamned nightmare.”

“Hah!” Eva laughed. “It's something you have to get used to. Sorry.”

Ocelot groaned, throwing a blanket over his shoulder and teetering to his feet. “So he isn't just tired?”

“Nah. It's just a regular occurrence over here. Kaz used to use earplugs, but I don't think that'd do you much good.” She paused. “You know, you have a nice voice. Do you mind if I sample it for a song?”

Ocelot slowly made his way down the stairs, the blanket dragging on the carpet. The question puzzled him a bit. “Uhh, sure. A little weird, but why not, I guess I owe you one. For sending him over here in the first place.”

“Nice. Thanks, man. And it really isn't a problem. You two were acting like damn fools and it was pissing me off. Even Kaz thinks you two were being stupid.”

“Hm. I'll have to talk to him about that at work.” Ocelot grinned, throwing the blanket over Snake’s sprawled figure. “So, can you hear the dragon?”

“It's like I'm there with you, believe me. Anyway, I gave to go practice.” She paused. “He likes it when you bite him.”

“Hey, did I ask for-” She hung up. Ocelot flushed. He really hadn't asked. He sat down on the floor and leaned his head against Snake’s arm, which was concealed by the soft blanket. The snores continued to rattle him no matter how much he tried to ignore them. Ocelot lived alone. He had no nasal strips and knew no mystical snore-destroying remedies in mind. He could search it up, but he didn't want to disturb Snake.

He got up, intending to make some food for when Snake woke up, but was reminded of his long-term dilemma when he saw his oven gone. He could heat up leftovers, but that seemed impersonal. Could eggs be cooked in the microwave?

Ocelot decided to simply make a tall sandwich of cold cuts, cheese, lettuce, and tomato for the man, leaving the tomatoes on a separate plate next to it so that they wouldn't make the sandwich soggy while he slept. Ocelot sat at the counter, his head down, swinging a leg to the rhythm of the man’s snores. He contemplated for a few minutes, thinking back, thinking forward, his eyes flicking from the fridge to the sandwich repeatedly.

As surprising and sudden as this all was, Ocelot was eager to move forward. He wondered if Snake would be opposed to sleeping upstairs with him. Ocelot didn't think he wanted to fuck the guy. Not yet. He just wanted to sleep somewhere comfortable with him. He looked over at Snake, tucked away his pride, got up. He went over and shook the man in hopes of waking him up from whatever ultra-deep slumber he was immersed in.To Ocelot’s surprise, Snake did so easily, and jolted awake with a snort.

“Snake. Come sleep upstairs. If you want to.” Ocelot said, his voice hushed and smooth. Snake looked delirious. Wild, almost.

“Huh. Yeah. Sure.” He struggled getting up, and Ocelot helped him up the stairs, his heart beating in his ears. This was alright, wasn't it? If Snake had felt that this was too forward, he would definitely have said no. Hopefully.

Snake seemed to hesitate as he looked at the bed. He stood there thinking long enough to make Ocelot uncomfortable. He decided to head over to the bathroom so that Snake felt less pressure and a lot less discomfort. After he'd flushed the toilet, he listened through the door, just in case Snake had fallen back asleep in the ten seconds it'd taken him to pee. He heard nothing, went to the sink, washed his hands and face, and emerged. Snake was under the covers, on his side, unmoving. He didn't sit up or look at Ocelot.

Ocelot moved towards the bed, rolling up his sleeves, a million thoughts crossing his mind. He sat on the available edge and cuffed his joggers. Peeled down the covers. Got in. His back was to Snake, whose back was to Ocelot. After a few agonizing moments, he moved his legs closer to Snake’s, then edged his entire body a little closer. He turned then, feeling bold. He scooted closer. Closer. After a few moments had passed, he slung an arm over Snake’s waist.

Snake chuckled, then. It was low and brief and calming. Ocelot grinned and closed his eyes, his nose centimeters from Snake’s back. Sleep found him within minutes, the light of the golden autumn sunset fading with his qualms and regrets.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey you guys............ thanks so much for reading. not to be weird but i love u all.  
> also uhhhhh y'all like lesbians?? brace yourselves because strangeboss will be served. got dam. i can't wait to write the next chapter of this!  
> also this is unbeta'd for the most part, so i apologize for the like..... 5th time for any embarrassing mistakes. don't be afraid to leave a comment, i really appreciate hearing what you all have to say about my, uh, writing, especially in regards to characterization and pacing.  
> also i promise there will be more kaz. i guess i'm being a little biased because EVA is my wife <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big Boss eats a big fucking sandwich!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a million years to write... turns out i'm lazy!!!!

Snake woke up covered in sweat and horribly confused. He was fully clothed, which baffled him because he almost always slept in just his underwear, if not completely naked. This wasn’t his room - right, he was at Ocelot’s. He flipped to his other side, looking around for a clock. Ocelot slept quietly beside him. He was puzzled for a moment, and then smiled, remembering how awkward he’d acted getting into the bed with him. It was dark out, but dim moonlight streamed in through a single window.

Snake sat up, cracked his back and listened to the satisfying noise of his limbs popping. It truly was hot under the covers. He let sat cross-legged. The clock was on Ocelot’s desk, facing the bed. The dim red numbers read that it was almost 9 at night. Should he leave? He was hungry, but he didn't want to go snooping around the place for food. 

He got out of bed, went to the bathroom and quickly relieved himself. He figured he'd do the right thing and ask for now, so he went back over to the bed and tapped Ocelot on the cheek a few times.Ocelot was facing away from the little light from the window, and it was difficult to tell how long he'd been awake before he spoke.

“Huh? What is it?” He sounded very tired.

“I'm going to get some food. That fine?”

Ocelot yawned. “Yeah. I made a sandwich for you. On the counter.” 

“Oh. Thanks.” That was nice of him. Snake crossed his arms and turned to leave the room.

“Snake,” Ocelot called rather quietly. “Come back when you're done. Don’t leave.”

“I… won't.” Snake hesitated. He had no idea how long he planned on staying. Again, he had no work tomorrow, but… Snake sighed and headed downstairs. 

He was pleased to find that there very much was a large object covered in tin foil waiting for him on the counter. The tomatoes were on the side. Maybe it was a Russian thing. He ate the tomatoes separately before tossing aside the foil and ripping a bite from the sandwich hungrily. Then, with sandwich in hand, he got up, searching the cabinets for a glass, putting it on the counter, and searching the fridge for something to drink. He had milk - Snake wasn’t in the mood for it. He settled on a near empty carton of orange-mango juice in the back, poured it into the cup, and went to sit back down. His sandwich was half-finished by then. 

He reached into his pocket for his phone only to find it gone. He grumbled. Had he left it upstairs? He looked around, twisting in his chair at first, then got up to search. He found it on the couch under a red blanket he hadn’t noticed before.

Kaz had called four times. Snake shook his head. 

“Jesus Christ…” He called the man back, wondering what could possibly be up.

“Kaz? What is it?” Snake went back to the counter and sat up on a stool. 

“Hey, don't sound so irritated. I just wanted to check up and see if you were okay.” He sniffed. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What, did you think he’d kidnapped me or something?” Snake couldn’t mask the irritation in his voice. He couldn’t help it; talking about Kaz with Ocelot and vice versa was grating. He didn’t really know  _ why  _ those two didn’t get along, and he was sure the whole ordeal was deeper than it seemed on the surface, but it was childish. And now was not the time for childishness. He really didn’t want to hear any sly, baseless accusations at the moment. 

“No, Snake. Damn, you’re defensive tonight. I’m sorry I asked.”

“It’s fine, Kaz. Damn, whenever you’re at someone’s house for a night, I never call to see what’s up.” Snake paused to think. He really sounded like an asshole. “On second thought, maybe I should.”

Kaz let out a short laugh. “Ha, maybe you should from time to time. Anyway, I just called because you never do this. I was a little worried. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

“You’re right.” He chewed the inside of his lip. “Sorry.” He grumbled.

“Yeah, you sure sound it.” Kaz replied sarcastically. “Anyway, so I take it everything’s going well?”

“Yeah. He made me a sandwich. It’s good.”

“Intriguing.”

“Alright, then.” Snake washed down the last bit of his sandwich with some juice. “How’ve  _ you _ been lately, since your life is so goddamn interesting, little accountant.”

“I've been alright. I got all of my work done so I have nothing to do. This company’s ridiculous. Two days off, plus a weekend? For  _ Thanksgiving _ ?”

Snake finished his juice. “I wouldn't complain, Kaz. It's good to hear you whining about something other than work every once in awhile.” 

“Oh, shut up. But I guess you're right. Speaking of which, Eva and I are going out to a bar in a little bit. Wanna come? We'll wait for you.”

“Uh, nah, I don't think I will.”

Kaz sighed. “You can bring Ocelot.”

“Wow, sweet of you, Kaz. You're an angel.”

Kaz ignored that. “Will you come?”

“No thanks, think I'll just relax. I've had enough of drinking since Thursday.

And Friday.” It was Snake who sighed this time. “God, am I really that stupid?”

“In regards to…?” 

“The whole thing with Ocelot. Jesus.”

“Dense, yeah, but stupid, Snake? Nah. We can all be like that sometimes. Everything’s all good now.” Kaz paused. “Hey, we’ll talk tomorrow, though. Have a good night.” 

“Night, Kaz.” 

Snake hung up the phone, got up and put his dishes in the sink. He lingered in the kitchen for a little while before padding softly back up the stairs. Ocelot was  breathing steadily, sleeping. He climbed back into bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. Ocelot rolled over and moved towards him, finally deciding to rest his chin on Snake's chest. 

Snake closed his eyes. “You were awake?” 

“Sort of. I was nodding off again but you getting into the bed woke me up.” Ocelot drew circles on his chest with a finger. “Was the sandwich good?”

Snake burped. “Yeah, it was. Thanks.” 

“No problem.” Ocelot breathed out. “Huh, I was supposed to call my mom tonight.”

“You can do it now if you want to.”

“Really, Snake. Right here?”

“I don't see a problem with it.”

“God,” Ocelot hoisted himself up and kissed him, probably meaning for it to be just a peck, but Snake held him there, their foreheads pressed together. 

Ocelot laughed through his nose. Snake smirked, then kissed him again, and again. 

“May I, then?” Ocelot pulled away, looking down at Snake with a grin plastered to his face. He put a palm down on the man's chest.

“You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that.” 

Ocelot moved his body to straddle the man under him. “Do I have your divine permission to have sex with you?”

Snake’s heart did a backflip in his chest. “Hm… Sure you do. If you have condoms.”

Ocelot patted Snake’s side. “Who doesn’t?” He rolled off of the side of the bed, landing smoothly on his hands and knees and getting to his feet, stretching a bit before heading to his dresser. Snake watched as Ocelot rummaged through all four drawers of his dresser, cursing under his breath. Snake laughed under his breath. The other man then headed into the bathroom, turning on the light before looking back at Snake over his shoulder. Snake waved. Ocelot shook his head. 

He returned, leaping onto the bed with 3 FRESH condoms and a near-empty bottle of lube. He threw them just under the pillow to the left of them, then moved to straddle Snake again, albeit awkwardly this time. 

Snake opened his mouth only to have Ocelot pinch his lips shut. Snake narrowed his eyes at the man.

“I know what you’re going to say, so there’s no need to open your mouth.” Ocelot ran his hands up Snake’s torso, pushing his shirt up above his chest. Ocelot’s hands were surprisingly tough yet gentle. He looked so handsome, looming above him, his eyes sharp, focused, and his lips apart ever so slightly. He closed his eyes as Ocelot slowly kneaded his bare chest, feeling him, pressing hard in some places and ghosting others. Snake bit his lip. He was already growing sweaty. Ocelot owed down to take a nipple between his teeth, biting gently. Snake reached to grab Ocelot’s waist. The man flicked his tongue against the sensitive skin, forcing a suppressed moan to escape Snake’s lips. Ocelot laughed, breathing breath against wet skin, making Snake shiver. 

“Raise your arms,” Ocelot said quietly. Snake obeyed, allowing the man to remove his shirt. Ocelot tossed it to the left side of the bed, scooping down again to kiss Snake’s neck and jawline. He fought a laugh as Ocelot began to breathe heavier, his breath tickling Snake’s skin. He almost pushed him off, but seeing as Ocelot was clearly very much into it already, Snake let him continue. A hot hand undid the button of Snake’s jeans, unzipping them with ease and finally slipping past the waistband of his underwear. Snake swallowed as Ocelot cupped his balls (his testicles).

“Jesus,” Ocelot murmured. “You’re hairy as hell.”

“Damn. I’ve never seen my balls before. Thanks for that.”

Ocelot made an irritated sound before moving to run his tongue across Snake’s top lip, then taking the bottom lip between his teeth. Snake could feel his blood rushing south; he wanted more. He grabbed Ocelot’s face, his thumbs feeling cheekbone and eyelash, mashing their lips together. Ocelot moved his hand to Snake’s shaft, squeezing it, running his thumb along the length. Snake moaned, rocking his hips forward for pressure, for gratification. Ocelot pulled his hand from Snake’s underwear, then sat up, Snake biting his lip in mild disappointment. He watched as Ocelot undressed; it was graceful, ritualistic, watching him slide fabric from his body and toss his garments to the floor. He was flaccid, for the most part, and his face was serious. After he’d undressed, he moved to kneel to the left of Snake, helping him shrug out of his jeans and boxers. 

Ocelot fell on top of him once again, running teeth along his collarbone and down his chest. Snake groaned, gripping Ocelot’s scalp as his hot breath trailed down his torso, ran over his abs, his fingers sliding down Snake’s sides, making him shiver. Ocelot pressed kisses against Snake’s pelvis; Snake’s erection brushed against his face. Ocelot paused then, sitting up again. Snake propped himself up onto his elbows. 

“Something wrong?” He scratched his head, a bit dizzy from the thrill of having his balls fondled for a hot second. 

“Yeah, in fact.” Ocelot lifted Snake’s chin with his thumb. He looked both poised and vicious looking down into his eyes like that. “I want you to do it.”

Snake glanced at himself. “What, suck my own dick?” Ocelot shook his head, rolling his eyes. Then Snake looked quickly at Ocelot’s half-mast erection. “Huh. Fine,” he grunted. Snake climbed out of the bed and kneeled on the floor. He was so hard it was growing painful. Ocelot swung his legs over the side of the bed, then nudged forward, squeezing Snake’s cheeks between his knees.

“Under all of that beard you have a shockingly soft face.” He observed. Snake sighed.

“Ocelot.” The man continued to mess with his face. “Ocelot. C’mon now.”

After a few more seconds, Ocelot released Snake, leaving the man to rub life back into his numb cheeks. “Thanks,” he mumbled, biting the inside of his cheek. He took a deep breath; when was the last time we sucked a dick? He couldn't remember; his entire sex life seemed a blur at this very moment. Ocelot sat there, looking down at him with a peculiar expression. Amusement mingled with awe, or something like that. 

Snake moved forward, placing a hand on Ocelot’s thigh and giving it a thoughtful squeeze. Ocelot’s dick was a decent size with considerable girth. He was circumcised, and although it was a bit difficult to tell in the dark, his pubic hair was probably fair; he ran his hand up the man’s crotch. The hair was soft.

Snake then took Ocelot’s cock into his hand, rubbing the tip slightly as he ran his tongue up the length. Ocelot let out a reassuring sigh, tangling his fingers into Snakes brown hair. He licked again, this time moving his thumb to move his tongue around the tip. He could feel the man’s cock twitching in his hand. Ocelot groaned, murmuring “ _ That's it, fuck that's good,”  _ barely loud enough for Snake to hear. Snake fought the urge to touch himself.

Snake finally took Ocelot’s cock into his mouth. The man above him nearly yanked his hair from his scalp. Snake winced, and Ocelot’s dick went too far down his throat, triggering his gag reflex. He pulled away quickly, coughing into his elbow. Tears filled his eyes. He didn't want Ocelot’s amazing sandwich to end up being splattered all over the guy.

“Sorry,” he managed to choke out. Ocelot shook his head.

“That was my fault. I got too excited.” He flashed a razor-sharp grin. “Keep doing your thing.”

Snake cleared his throat, then went down on Ocelot again, pressing his tongue along his length as he bobbed his head down and up again, feeling the thing twitch in his mouth as Ocelot grew increasingly horny. Snake couldn't have possibly been any harder than he already was. He was over eager to move on, but felt that Ocelot should should be the one to take initiative. 

So he kept on sucking. Ocelot was looking down at him shamelessly, looking mystified, enamored by Snake. He was able to go far enough that his nose touched Ocelot's soft pubic hair. He swallowed around Ocelot, making him hiss. 

“Alright, enough, enough,” Ocelot breathed, tugging Snake’s head back gently. There was a small popping noise when Ocelot’s cock slid from his mouth. Snake licked up a trail of saliva running down his chin. Ocelot stretched his back and nodded towards the pillow. “Lie down.” He stood, retrieved the condoms as Snake got comfortable. Snake mentally prepared himself for what was to come. Ocelot climbed back onto the bed, straddling him once again.

He watched as Ocelot rolled the condom on, throwing the little package to the floor. He then (with a bit of effort) squirted the clear lube into his palm, making sure to coat himself thoroughly. He then took Snake’s face into his hand, squeezing his cheeks with just the smallest hint of aggression. 

“I need you to look at me while I do this. Hear me? Let me know when it's too much, and  _ please  _ let me know if it's not enough.” Snake nodded, and Ocelot smiled. In a quick move, he pulled Snake’s eyepatch off, throwing it to the other pillow. For a moment, Snake was stunned. He felt exposed.

“Much better.” Ocelot kissed Snake on the forehead. He then squeezed an obscene amount of lube onto his fingers. Snake was tempted to close his eyes, but settled on biting the inside of his lip in anticipation of the pain.

When Ocelot began pushing his fingers into him, Snake shifted in immense discomfort. He bit harder. His fingers gripped the sheets.

“Relax, relax,” Ocelot pleaded, his voice gentle enough to melt him. “Deep breaths, babe.” Snake flushed at the use of the pet name. Ocelot pulled out of him, put more lube on his fingers, pushed back in. Snake breathed deeply at first, but his breath hitched as Ocelot’s fingers got a little too deep. 

“You're doing fine. Breathe, Snake.” Snake breathed. He groaned. He was growing accustomed to the feeling of Ocelot’s fingers in his ass, and gradually relaxed as the man moved back and forth slowly. 

“Ocelot…” Snake breathed. He let out a breath as Ocelot pulled out his fingers. 

Ocelot once again coated his erection with lube, and without much hesitation, moved forward, gently lifting Snake’s legs onto his toned shoulders.  _ Now  _ Snake wanted to do nothing more than close his eyes. He felt a bit embarrassed despite the look of fierce concentration on Ocelot’s face. Slowly, he began pushing his tip into Snake. He didn't go very far before pulling out and pushing back in, further this time. Ocelot was a decent size, and Snake hadn't quite prepared himself for the strange tugging sensation that followed Ocelot's entry. It hurt; a dull ache that blossomed into a sharper pain. Snake bit his lip as Ocelot continued to slide into him.

“You alright?” The man asked. Snake was sweating, and his heartbeat nearly drowned Ocelot's voice out. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Keep going.”

Ocelot nodded. This time, when he began pulling out of Snake, he didn't go all the way. He thrusted, gently, into Snake, forcing the man so stifle a grunt. Snake was sweating bullets, and goosebumps freckled his entire body, but Ocelot looked  _ so _ fucking good. He thrusted again, and suddenly Snake was aware of the gentle hands pressed against his hips. Ocelot looked gallant in the moonlight. Snake took a deep breath.

Ocelot fucked him carefully, methodically, and Snake found himself enjoying himself more as the moments progressed. His breath came hard, and he could do nothing to help the moans and grunts that escaped his lips. Ocelot too was breathing hard, his skin glowing with a sheen of budding sweat.

Soon, Snake felt himself relax completely, giving himself to Ocelot as the pain was overcome with the overwhelming sensation of closeness to the other man. He was lost, his thoughts swam, gathered into puddles that dispersed into incoherent particles of language. He couldn't think about anything other than Adam. Adam.  _ Adam.  _

Snake came on his own stomach, his eye squeezing shut as his body convulsed and spasmed as his orgasm shot through him. Ocelot's thrusts began to lose their steady rhythm as he lost control, finally giving one last thrust before he fell onto Snake, letting his legs fall from his shoulders. Ocelot trembled slightly as he gripped Snake with a desperate urgency. His breath was cool on Snake’s skin.

“Fuck…” Ocelot laughed. “You're amazing, John.” He rolled off of his stomach, pulled the condom off, tying it and tossing it to the floor. That didn't seem wise, as he had carpet, but Snake said nothing.

Snake tried to move, but pain shot through his backside. He hissed through his teeth. Ocelot rolled onto his side, propping his head up with an elbow.

“How was it? You were pretty quiet.” He wrapped himself around Snake’s arm.

“Good. Amazing.” Snake wiped his forehead. “But right now? My ass is on fire. Like when you have diarrhea and shit a few times, but deeper.”

Ocelot laughed. “You'll get over it. Do you take acetaminophen?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Ocelot kissed him before climbing out of the bed and down the stairs, completely nude. Snake let his good eye close as he relaxed into the pillow. The room was a furnace, yet he pulled the blankets up over his lower body. He then remembered the mess on his stomach and sighed. 

Thankfully, Ocelot had a tissue box on his nightstand, and after testing his limits and seeing how far his limbs could stretch, he grabbed a tissue, wiping himself off and bundling the tissue up before he threw it onto the floor, since Ocelot seemed more than okay with that practice.

Ocelot returned with a tall glass of water and some pills in a medicine cup. 

Snake took the pills and quickly swallowed down the entire glass of water, releasing a guttural burp moments after. Ocelot climbed back into bed. Snake wrapped his arms around him, feeling completely at peace with everything. Slowly, he sank into a deep sleep.

\--

Ocelot had never looked forward to a lunch break more in his life. After coming back from his little vacation, he’d felt rejuvenated, revived from the crippling simplicity of a lonely corporate life. Initially, he’d thought that this bliss would last him a good two days, but he decided to bask in it regardless, and found that even four days in, he was still feeling good. Everything in his life was going well. He was sure he was due for his promotion anytime soon. He was visibly glowing with glee, to the delight of some coworkers and the disdain of… others. 

Ocelot had brought his own lunch from home. After the restoration of his oven and stove, he’d gone a little wild and celebrated by cooking a miniature feast of some of his favorite foods. He still had leftovers from Thanksgiving, although they were dwindling, so his fridge was gloriously packed for the first time in a while. 

To add to his joy, his mother would be returning soon. He’d convinced her to come back a bit earlier, despite her claim that she was having the time of her life in the UK with Strangelove. She’d called him from Scotland, and he’d had the pleasure of having a brief phone conversation with a sheep. 

Ocelot made his way to the break room. A few of his coworkers were in there, including the intern, Paz, who was chatting amiably with someone else from the graphic design department. Ocelot put his food into the microwave, and the unpleasant smell of cold, cooked food morphed into the wonderful aroma of a hot meal. Paz turned in her chair to face him. Her sharp eyes flashed him a challenging look. Ocelot smiled. 

“You’ll  _ never  _ guess what I was told yesterday afternoon.” Paz’s accent gave her words a certain pleasantness. It made Ocelot wish he hadn’t forced himself to lose his own when he was in school. He look a seat next to their other coworker, who got up, probably to avoid any awkwardness.

“No, let me guess. They’re letting go of you, finally?” Ocelot joked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Just the opposite.” She gave a dismissive shrug. “I may get a job here.  _ Full-time. _ ”

“Wow, congrats, Paz. Welcome to the rest of your life.” Maybe she’d be taking his job. He got up again to retrieve his meal from the microwave. Surprisingly, he hadn’t been invited to lunch with his boss, who he’d eaten with quite a few times in the recent past. He sat back down, opening a packet containing a plastic set of silverware. 

“Thanks. And don’t be so sour. This is exciting for me!” 

“I’m sure it is,” Ocelot began. “I’m kidding, working here’s not so bad.” His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a text from his mother. She was packing to leave for tomorrow. He texted back his excitement. He then scrolled through the rest of his messages. Snake hadn’t texted him since the previous night, and although he had confidence in Snake’s skills as a firefighter, he couldn’t help but feel worried whenever the man went on duty. He’d call, but if Snake was at work, he definitely didn’t want to interrupt, especially during such a busy week.

He put his phone away, forcing himself to stop overthinking. He and Paz spoke for a few more minutes before the girl left him alone with some other random coworkers. Ocelot finished his meal over some casual smalltalk, and then got up to put away his dishes and return to his boss. He practically skipped into her office, smoothly closing the door behind him as she greeted him. 

“Take a seat, Adam. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you before you get back to work.” Ocelot’s stomach dropped; anxiety and excitement, mixed into a mess of emotions. He sat, back straight, looking his boss right in the eyes. He’d worked for this woman for years, but the look in her eyes was near unreadable. He crossed one leg over the other, bouncing it, nervous. 

“Don’t tell me I’m in trouble, now.” He began slowly, hoping to ease the tension in the room with a bit of empty humor. The woman smiled, but her eyes read something much different.

“No, Adam. But I’m just going to go ahead and say this now; they game the job to someone else. I know you’ve been looking forward to this promotion, and believe me when I say I’ve been pushing for them to give it to you, but you’ve been passed up.”

Ocelot sat there in shock, unbreathing, unfeeling. He opened his mouth, paused for a long moment, and took a deep breath before he spoke.

“I’ve been  _ passed up?  _ Who did they give the job to?” He was nearly shaking with rage. His chance to move up. His chance to do better. His boss gave him a sympathetic look.

“I know I shouldn’t tell you this, but personally, I don’t believe that who they chose was as qualified as you. As to why they chose him over you, I’m not quite sure. I was there for the meeting regarding the decision, but it was vague. I guess his performance around the workplace was seen as better than yours, but I think it was a matter or him being in the right place at the right time more than a few times.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Adam.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll have other chances, I suppose.” His chest was tight, and he found himself biting hard on the inside of his cheek.

“I could write a letter or recommendation for you. Sometimes when this happens, people seek out higher positions at other companies.”

Ocelot thought for a long while. He heaved an irritated sigh. “I have no intention of leaving, but it wouldn’t hurt.” He felt tired. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

They spent the next ten minutes discussing Ocelot’s responsibilities for the afternoon. He took all of it in, organizing the thoughts into a mental chart. He’d be doing this for a long time. His heart was heavy, but he left the room with confidence in his walk as he usually did.

\--

Ocelot knocked on the door furiously. Containing his anger for the remainder of the work day had nearly driven him mad, and he was fully prepared to let Snake know  _ exactly  _ how he felt about everything. 

When it was Miller who came to the door, Ocelot smiled. A fine opportunity to let off some steam. 

“Where’s Snake?” He barked before the other man could register just  _ who  _ was out the door. Miller narrowed his eyes at him, coming to his senses at last.

“Not here.” Miller growled. “What the hell are you barging in here for?”

“Because I  _ need  _ to see Snake, obviously. Where is he?” Ocelot tried to shove past Miller, already weary of arguing with him.

“Oh, no no  _ no.  _ Nope. You're not coming in. Not with that attitude.”

Ocelot barked out a joyless, mocking laugh. “ _ Attitude _ , Miller? Attitude. Quit treating me like a child and let me in. You're really getting me angry.” Again, Ocelot shoved, but was pushed backwards by strong arms.

“This is  _ my  _ apartment. I pay rent here. Not you. Wait for him outside.” Miller shut the door in his face. Ocelot heard the click of the lock before he could fight his way back in. He sank to the floor in defeat, whipping out his phone and sending Snake a quick text. He waited about three minutes for a response.

_ Coming back from gym now. don’t kick kaz’s ass please _

_ -Absolutely no promises. _

Ocelot was still livid, and to top that off, he hated himself for expecting to be handed a promotion. He knew there’d be some competition - that’s just how things worked in the business world. But he thought that with the special treatment he’d been receiving, the invitation, the consideration of his advice; he thought he’d had that job on deck. Ocelot was sitting on the floor in the hallway, ignoring the neighbors that glanced at him questioningly when they emerged from or left their rooms. Eva peeked out of her room a minute later. Ocelot looked over at her, nodded his head in greeting. She crossed the hall, sitting down next to him.

“I thought I heard you out here. You and Kaz are… loud.” She patted his shoulder. “What’s up, man?”

“Bad day at work. What’s up with you?”

“I’m alright, but I think I’m going to start working part-time. Shockingly, just music isn’t enough this day and age.” Eva smiled softly. “I hate working.”

“I do too.” He sighed. “I don’t know what to do now that I’m not being promoted. I came  _ so  _ close, Eva. A part of me wants to leave, but this is the first big company I’ve been with. It’s been years. I don’t want to move on just yet.”

“Hey, you’ll have other opportunities to move up. You said that you came close to getting this job. I mean, what do you think you were being promoted to?”

“An executive secretary. Working for my boss’s boss. I’m just a secretary now. It’s not a very good job. Very few qualifications, even for this company.”

“Hey, I know it’s shit, but you’ll get your chance. I mean, being an assistant to someone a little more important than your boss? The salary may be higher, but it just seems like it'd be more of the same work to me.” Eva stood up. “Want anything to eat?” Ocelot wasn’t very hungry, but didn’t turn down the offer. She helped him get to his feet, and together, they entered the apartment. It smelled like weed. He sat on the loveseat, resting his head on his arm, thinking about what Eva had just said to him. She… really did have a point.

“Snake’ll be here soon,” Eva said, pressing the door closed. “He jogs to the gym and back. I skipped out today since I have a gig coming up soon. Did Snake tell you about it?”

Ocelot shook his head. “Unless I forgot. When is it?”

“Three days. I’ll text you the location. It’ll be fun. We can get a drink afterwards.”

“Sounds nice.” Ocelot sighed. “What do you have to eat?”

“I can heat up some spaghetti and sauce. Want to do some shots?” She pulled a pot and a smaller container from her fridge. 

“ _ Shots?  _ On a Thursday? I've got work tomorrow, Eva.”

“But it's a different kind of Thursday. Come on, we’ll do three shots each.” She began scooping spaghetti out of the pot and onto two plates. She then opened the container, pouring sauce onto the pasta, placing one of the plates in the microwave. She then received two shot glasses from a cabinet. “Tequila? Rum? What do you need?”

“I know my tequila. It has to be quality or I won't drink it.”

“Ocelot, the bottle was $14. Come on.” Ocelot’s phone began vibrating then. He took it out of the pocket of his work pants. Snake was calling. 

“Hey, I just got back. Where are you?” The sound of Snake’s voice brought a smile to his face despite all that had transpired the past few hours. 

“Eva’s.” Ocelot looked Eva in the eyes from across the room. “She has spaghetti.” Eva scowled, dumping out a plate of spaghetti for Snake. 

“Alright.” Snake hung up. He was at the door a minute later, looking glorious in his sweaty grey t-shirt and short running shorts. He gave Eva a quick  _ hey,  _ heading over to the loveseat to kiss Ocelot’s forehead. Eva shrugged, putting another plate in the microwave.

“How was work?” He asked, plopping onto Eva’s other small couch. 

“Oh, he didn't tell you?” Eva chimed in. “Dramatic.” Ocelot rolled his eyes.

“It was terrible. Beyond that. I didn't get the promotion. They gave it to some other son-of-a-bitch.” Ocelot slammed the arm of the seat with his fist. “After all that buildup. They teased me and left me to rot.”

Snake leaned back, thinking. “What're you going to do, then. Give up? Quit?”

“I'm thinking about it. I don't want to leave this company, but I'm embarrassed. I never want to face any of those people again. My boss is writing me a recommendation letter.” Ocelot paused, feeling sick to his stomach. “But I don't think I can move on from here. It's risky.”

“What? How?” Snake asked, his expression affirming his doubt. “I think you're overqualified for your job. What would stop you from getting a better one?”

Ocelot glanced over at Eva, who was searching a cabinet for something. He then looked at Snake, who seemed to have caught onto his unease. He wore a puzzled expression. Ocelot sighed.

“Look, I’m about to tell you something that my own mother doesn't even know.” He answered, his voice very low. “But you can't tell a single soul. Not one, not your coworkers or a backpacker you met in Thailand.”

Snake looked surprised. “I won't. What is it?” Ocelot glanced over at Eva again. She was skillfully filling three shot glasses.

“Snake, most of my resumé is fake. I haven't done half the shit on it. I just wanted a decent job.” He drummed his fingers on his kneecap. His hands were bare, and felt cold. He'd left his gloves in the car. “The more it's passed around the more I fear people will catch wind of what I've done.”

“This late in the game? Nah, I doubt it.”

“It's never too late, Snake.”

Snake scratched his beard, watching as Eve brought them three shots. “Then why would you do it, Adam? God,  _ how  _ did you do that? Jesus...” He rubbed his temple. Eva put the tray with the shots down onto the coffee table, looking at Ocelot intently.

“I knew people.” Ocelot answered. Snake shook his head. 

Eva took advantage of the halt in the conversation. “Hey, Bozos, the spaghetti’s ready, and I made shots.” 

“Why don't we do the shots first?” Ocelot asked. “I have a lot on my mind right now.”

Eva nodded her agreement with a small smirk, then picked up a glass. The other two followed. 

“On three,” she began. “One… two…” The three tipped their heads back. Ocelot felt a satisfying burn in his chest, but grimaced at the drink’s flavor. Cheap tequila. 

Ocelot sank back into the chair, trying to separate himself from his thoughts. Eva poured more shots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, turns out BB is a bottom too!!!  
> i always forget about how much i hate writing sex scenes. i hope that wasn't too bad, and sorry for any errors in the text!   
> thanks ao3 user zarya for proofing this for me and preventing y'all from reading a pretty goddam bad joke. the next chapter might come sooner. hmmmm....


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